As Long As We're Going Down
by darkhuntress13
Summary: It's been three unrelenting years of blood, death, and control. When the opportunity arises for Matthew to remind himself what it is to be human, he takes it. The consequences of his indulgence will change the shape of power in Europe's criminal underworld. In a world set atop a powder keg, Matthew will find himself holding the match and making a choice between love and survival.
1. Prologue: Right Hand

A/N: The mature version of this story is posted here. Because I really would prefer not to get kicked off this site, the explicit version is over on Ao3 (see my profile). Considering this is my only story (so far) where I felt the need to separate the two…

Prologue: Right Hand

They hated him.

It wasn't simply resentment, envy, or a healthy amount of fear. No, Matthew was surrounded by people who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire, who would happily put a bullet in his gut and watch him die a slow death.

He knew this well and took proper precautions. He had a personal guard that was unconnected to anyone he worked with and he had personally vetted them. He had done his best to erase his past from every electronic and paper database. He, of course, had an acceptable if unassuming public persona, but everyone did in this business. He had even erased his name.

Only Lovino Vargas knew and he could keep a secret. In normal conversation, Lovino referred to him as the name he had assumed years ago, Ghost. He was nothing, no one. He was a dead man that hell itself had kicked out, had been living as little more than a menacing creature in the dark for nearly seven years. They called him a monster, a demon Lovino had sold his soul to for all he had gained. They were half right.

If something needed to be done, he was called by his title, Right Hand. He was second in command to the heir of the Vargas crime family in Italy. If someone needed to be leaned on, if a shipment was late, if any upstart was eager to make a name, he was sent and the situation was dealt with. When Lovino Vargas called for his Right Hand, people within ear shot tensed and had a thrill of fear go through them. When the baby Boss called for his Right Hand, it usually meant someone was going to bleed.

Even when he let himself to get drunk, Lovino only called him an affectionate "bastard." Matthew allowed it because Lovino was his oldest and only friend. He owed him more than his life and he paid him back with a loyalty that made his world itself tremble.

He only called him by his given name once in the past seven years since he had risen to his position and it was because Matthew had needed to hear it. Lovino, even with all the schemes in his head and bodies on the ground, saw the moment that Matthew would have unraveled, lost his sense of self completely. They had been alone but for the dead (the only good kind of enemy) and he had breathed it into the air. He had pulled Matthew back from the abyss and that was the second he knew the decision to tie his life to Lovino's had not been folly. From then on, he stopped trying to erase his past and started living with it. He rarely thought of himself as simply "Ghost" anymore, which was progress.

Lovino was the only person who could count on him and everyone knew it. It meant that, if there was a plot to kill Lovino, they had to plan to take out Matthew, too. Because if Lovino was killed for someone else's ambition…

Matthew would burn the world to ash and salt what survived his fury.

So they hated him. Matthew just saw it as the truth it was and guarded his back like the devil herself was at his heels. Because the people who hated him were not his rivals, but his co-workers. The Family had a difficult time understanding how Lovino had promoted a blond, blue eyed American (he was Canadian but they could assume what they liked) above his own family members, above people who had been in the organization for decades. They had stopped questioning his place by his friend's side after the first faction had stepped a little too far out of line and disappeared, their assets suddenly in the wind.

The Family didn't question his power, but there constant whispers of his imagined past. _How did this pasty-ass white boy become the most ruthless dog in the Vargas Family?_

Good question.

* * *

 ** _Nine Years Ago_**

After all that he had done to scratch out this merge existence beyond subsistence, fighting impossible odds every damn day just to survive, Matthew might have finally found the one thing that would break him.

Alfred was dead.

Early that afternoon, he'd gotten a call from the administration, asking him to come to the assistant dean's office as soon as possible. Matthew, expecting that perhaps the school had finally figured out who exactly they'd paid to be a student at their oh-so-pristine institution, had planned his exit strategy by the time he walked into the room. All his plans crumbled when he saw a man in the dress blues of the marines stand upon his arrival, when he stopped being aware of the doors and windows, too focused on the folded up American flag in the man's gloved hands.

The words he had spoken then were, "There's no body."

The assistant dean was prattling something about mental health services and grief counseling, but the soldier clearly recognized the blank look in Matthew's eyes, the coldness of his expression and the natural stance his body had fallen into. "No," was all he said.

Matthew nodded and flicked his eyes to the cloth in the man's hands. He said, voice flat and as close as he had ever come to revealing what he truly was at school, "Keep the kindling."

He'd walked out, mind blank even as it subconsciously assessed every structure and person he passed. He walked out of the schools gates and turned north, further into the city. People usually looked past him on the street. Now, they glanced at him and looked away quickly. New Yorkers were good like that, at leaving people to their public privacy. So, he walked.

Alfred was dead.

He and Alfred had been orphaned at 10, twin boys with duel American and Canadian citizenship who were thrown into the American foster care system. Their mother had died due to complications of childbirth in Canada and their father had committed suicide after being told he was being investigated for fraud. Creditors took whatever fortune they had inherited and foster care…had been rough. Up until that point, they never had to fight for anything. But they were fast learners. Matthew was grateful to his father for the two lessons he had taught them: how to think and to rely on no one but each other.

Because the stupid system had fucked up their registration and given them two different last names instead of the hyphenated one they were both given at birth, they had to fight to stay together. It had helped that they were nearly identical in appearance but not much. The longest they had lived without the other was four months. Matthew had been with a family with twelve foster kids and had learned the value of fading into the background. Alfred had been in a worse situation, with physically and verbally abusive parents. By the time he was finally pulled out and the abusers were let off with only a warning, he had learned the value of taking a stand. Alfred came out of it wanting to be a hero and knowing that to do it, you had to get your hands dirty. Matthew came out of it with a keen sense of survival and an ability to read people that would save his life. The next time they were together, he suggested they run away. They had been fifteen.

On the streets, they learned harder lessons: what it meant to go without eating, how to hide bruises, how to make money under the table, how to avoid the cops at any and all costs. Matthew was perfect at identifying weakness in people, in understanding how interpersonal dynamics worked and how to best destabilize a system. Alfred was a genius at actually _breaking_ people, of coming up with plans and strategies on the fly. They each shared with each other all they knew. It was a miracle they didn't have a rap sheet a mile long by the time they managed to afford a shitty apartment in a forgotten part of the city. They were almost seventeen then, and finally had to face the question of what they were going to do beyond tomorrow.

Matthew, disillusioned with the system but not knowing how to escape it, decided to get his GED and work his ass off to get a full ride into university. Alfred, who came to love the city and country with a devotion that Matthew could never understand, wanted to join the military at eighteen. He had joked about being part of something bigger and protecting freedom, but Matthew knew that a large part of it was the shelter, three meals a day, and steady pay. The military offered Alfred a home. Matthew just saw it as a cage.

So Matthew had filled out application fee waivers and applied to schools and as many scholarships as he thought he had a shot at. He studied university websites in the public library, looking between the words on the admission's site for how to become exactly what the schools wanted. Then he penned a sanitized version of his story that kept out the abuse and the crime and the blood on his hands for an awe-inspiring personal statement. Alfred got his GED just for something to do as he waited for their eighteenth birthday. Then he was at basic training within a matter of months.

The last time Matthew had seen him, Alfred was proudly wearing his camos, posture perfect and precise. He had smile on his face, eyes sparkling in a way Matthew hadn't seen for years as he babbled excitedly about his unit and how they were all friends and _God, Mattie, but I wish you could meet them!_

That had been a year and a half ago. They had written and Matthew could almost hear the cynicism creeping into his brother's words as time went on. He would talk about the people around him less and less, as more and more of them died and were replaced. The last letter he sent was about being pulled into some kind of special training. _Must of died in a training accident_ , Matthew thought to himself. Then he started laughing because that was just too cliché to be his life.

But it was.

Because Alfred was dead.

It was quiet.

Matthew blinked, senses coming fully back online after being numbed by his shock and oh, he should not be here.

He was being watched. It was to be expected when he wanders into territory disputed by several fractions in the city. At least, it had been disputed when he had started school two years earlier. He'd been complacent and it might get him killed.

He kept his head down and kept walking, heading to the closest main street. His damn feet had put him on a side street and it was not as well-lit as was safe for someone who didn't belong to anyone. He wasn't even armed besides the pair of knives he kept on him like a security blanket and they would do jack shit if he was confronted with a gun.

Alfred liked guns.

Alfred _had_ liked guns. He didn't anymore because he was dead and the dead don't like or care about shit.

Just like that, Matthew was angry.

He was also surrounded.

A voice called out in the dark, mocking and vicious in its heart-wrenchingly familiar Haitian-Creole, " _Now what's a nice college boy like this doing on our side of town?"_

He could speak the language well enough after his time on the street, but the bastardized Quebecois accent made it sound muddled in his mouth. So, rather than butcher the language, he answered in English, tone respectful but not cowed, mind spinning as he calculated his odds, "Blinded by grief. My brother is dead and I wandered where I shouldn't be. No disrespect meant."

" _Do you think we pity you?"_

"No. I just answered your question." He shouldn't have said that. He should have left his answer simple and he knew it as figures emerged from the shadows. Matthew halted, vowing to himself that, if he survived this, he wouldn't be this careless again. But since he already made the mistake and honestly was a little beyond giving a shit about what happened, he continued. "What do you want from me? I have little money, no jewelry or worthy identity to steal. My phone is disposable. If I go missing, I assure you my school photograph is endearing enough to cause the police to want to blame someone. If you're looking for a fight," a small smile fit on his mouth, "then all I can say is you may get more than what you were expecting."

He shifted easily into a loose stance, not the technically perfect one he learned as a kid, but the one he adapted on the street to survive. The people around him seemed to hesitate, looking past his unassuming face to glimpse at the monster he had kept leashed for three years. Now that it was needed, he slipped back into this hunter's mindset as easily as a well-worn glove. He was showing that this fight may cost more than what any of the Haitians were thinking to gain, but he knew the odds. Five on one, if the scuffs he'd heard were right and his invigorated instincts weren't failing him. Matthew wouldn't survive if they came at him with knives, but he could take a few of them out. If they had guns, he was already dead.

They probably had guns.

"I don't think that will be necessary," came a confident, amused voice that was vaguely familiar from Matthew's 7 o'clock. There was an accent to the English, but it wasn't Haitian. A possible ally then, making the odds much more in his favor. But Matthew didn't know this person, didn't know if they were a threat and kept his eyes towards the shadows where the first voice had emerged.

There was a moment of silence that felt stunned as they all waited for the first voice to speak again. Eventually it emerged in rolling English, "He's with the Italians."

"He is now." A person started walking from his 7 o'clock, a guy if he guessed the tenor correctly but it was a voice that could go either way. The gait was confident and Matthew didn't relax as a boy about his age came to stand next to him, just out of Matthew's reach. He'd chanced a look at him and it took every ounce of control to not let his surprise show on his face.

It was Lovino Vargas. As in the same Lovino Vargas that sat in the back row with him in criminal psychology. Matthew usually did a threat assessment of people whenever he walked into a room and Vargas had been the only person to raise flags the first day of the semester. He had been dressed in clothes that subtly whispered wealth, perfectly coiffed hair but for a stray curl that licked to the side and eyes that shifted between whiskey brown and olive in the light. He'd been handsome and from money, like a number of his classmates, but he'd had an air about him that said he knew where all the exits were, what your weaknesses were, and how best to destroy you…if you knew what you were looking for and Matthew did. But he had never expected this.

How could he have guessed that the sullen, dangerous boy in his psych class was somehow positioned well enough in the mafia to be recognized on sight alone by members of rival organizations? Sure, he had picked up over the years that the Vargas' Family branch in New York was not to be fucked with, but thousands of people had to have that last name. What were the odds?

Still, Matthew relaxed and tilted his head in deference to him, recognizing he'd saved his ass. He so was not stupid enough to refuse the offered assistance. Vargas smiled sharply at the gesture, something like triumph in his hazel eyes and the remaining figures melted back into the shadows.

Vargas didn't say anything to him as they walked to the end of the block and into a black town car that pulled up at the curb. Matthew waited until they were alone in the car before he looked at Vargas and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Vargas smiled at him and shook his head. "What the fuck were you doing, walking around like that? Challenging the Haitians in their own territory?"

Matthew shrugged. "Wasn't actually thinking about it…You followed me."

"Yeah. You're usually aware of yourself but I got a call that something had gone wrong and you were headed into a hot zone."

Matthew blinked at him. He wasn't just followed today, but he was being _followed_. Apparently had been watched for some time. "Why?"

Vargas' eyes sharpened and his posture shifted from relaxed relief to sharp readiness. Matthew didn't bother tensing. If Vargas wanted him dead, he would have left him on that street. If he changed his mind and Matthew was still in the car, nothing he could do would stop him (or his family if he somehow managed to one-up him). Vargas smiled wide and dangerous as he took in Matthew. "Because you aren't surprised or intimidated at who I am. Because you have the face of an angel but the neutral eyes of a tiger. Because you don't irritate me like damn near everyone else I've come across. Because you seem listless and I need an ally who's outside the Family. Because neither of us have any friends and I think we can change that."

Matthew sat quietly as he processed the information. At length, he said, "So tonight is not a favor to be repaid later?"

"Tonight is an offer of friendship." The words were heavy with meaning and Matthew understood that it was also an invitation into a life that he hadn't been born into. Even before Alfred's death, he'd felt adrift at school, excelling in his classes because he had nothing else to do with his time, disconnected from his classmates because of his life experiences. The thought of a life of crime didn't bother him in the least, which perhaps would be concerning. But he had no real goals of his own, no family, no connections. This could be the purpose he started college to find. Especially with Alfred gone…he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Matthew smiled at Vargas—Lovino. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Lovino."

He laughed. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Matthew offered his hand and they shook.

Lovino shook his head but relaxed again. "We have a lot to talk about. First, my condolences if what you said about your brother is true…"

Matthew's jaw tightened but he didn't look away from him. "It is. Killed in action, my guess."

Lovino eyed him critically. "What do you need?"

Matthew thought about it. He thought about his past and present and had no idea what the hell would be his future. Maybe Matthew Williams didn't have a future. Maybe…it would be better that way, if Matthew Williams died with Alfred Jones. "I need to disappear, to erase this mess I've become."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"Why not both?"

Lovino studied him and Matthew did look away then. They were supposed to be friends now, but that relationship was minutes old. He wasn't ready for Lovino to see whatever emotions were on his face. After a moment he said, "Okay. I'll need a couple things from you, but I can make that happen."

Matthew looked back at him, astonished because he had _never_ in his life asked for something then have someone actually offer to make that happen. "What things?"

"One: graduate with me. We need legitimate enough credentials to get into certain circles. Two: actually be my friend. Hang out with me and shit or whatever friends do. I haven't had one that wasn't paid to be there so I wouldn't know what's usually required."

Matthew smiled then, "Me neither. Or, at least, not since I was ten and not with anyone who wasn't—"

The silence following that choked cut off thought was deafening. Maybe this wasn't the time to make a decision like this. Oh, wait, Matthew didn't care.

"…Three: you have to learn Italian. As in pick up the major as soon as possible. I'm only here for university; I go back to Italy in two years."

Matthew forced his lips to curl. "Done. So…what do you like to do in your free time?"

Lovino laughed again and answered.

* * *

 ** _Present_**

Matthew was hated because the person he had become was a wild card. Ghost (the word spoken in English rather than the Italian _fantasma_ ) was a mysterious, murderous loose cannon that would not hesitate to follow Lovino's—and _only_ Lovino's—orders. He had helped turn just another mafia prince into the most well-entrenched and feared member of the generation. He made sure Lovino had choices in what he specialized in because he had no choice when it came to his profession. He had no other weak points; he had no family to threaten, no civilian friends to kidnap, and (because of his personal preferences and limitations) took no lovers when he was in the country. Hell, he didn't even need glasses anymore thanks to Lovino's insistence on surgery before they'd left the States. He didn't smoke, only occasionally drank. It made people think he was sanctimonious, but Matthew was neither religious nor inclined to give a fuck. He was who he was. The only person's approval he needed gave it unconditionally.

It wasn't the intention Matthew had when he had taken Lovino's hand that day so many years ago, but the Italian filled the role of the brother he had lost with startling ease. He wasn't sure if what they had was love, but it was probably as close as he would ever get. He was Lovino's protector, confidant, friend, and enforcer. He was his Right Hand.

That was what he was doing now, sitting behind and to the right of Lovino's chair as he held informal court with his captains over drinks. He rarely spoke at these things, sitting away from the fray with his back to the wall, eyes watchful. He was immaculately dressed in a suit that cost more than he and Alfred had scraped together in a year on the street, courtesy of Lovino's insistence on maintaining appearances. Matthew thought that even their tailor hated him—it wasn't easy to craft a suit that could lie over body armor and a myriad of weapons and still look stylish. He only ever wore black-on-black; it was the best color for hiding blood stains.

Lovino's chosen specially was dealing in information, knowing everything about everyone and how best to use it against them. If someone in the Family needed to know how to approach something, they came to him. His own position afforded him some safeguards. People knew that if he suddenly disappeared, that a lot of their life-ruining secrets would be in the open. With Lovino alive and active, they were secure. It made smart people less likely to try to assassinate him and gave them a vested interest in Lovino's survival.

Most people, however, were idiots.

That was where Matthew came in. He and his network of contacts kept careful eyes on everything, wary of anyone thinking past their capacity and trying to go after Lovino directly. A lot of bullshit got stopped before it could even get off the ground because of him. If it didn't, well. Things happened. People died.

Matthew was the only general Lovino had and it made people dread reporting to him. It wasn't that he was rude or unpleasant, but he made no effort to charm or appease people within the organization itself. He wasn't interested in playing that game and the Family disliked dealing such an obvious outsider in what was supposed to be an inner sanctum of their organization.

Lovino's only equal in the Family hierarchy was his brother, Feliciano. He loved his older brother and happily followed his example. The younger man was their arms dealer, ruled that little corner of hell, and looked even more innocent at first glance than Matthew. It made people underestimate him, which was one of their biggest mistakes. Once, an ambitious cousin tried to convince Feliciano to kill his brother to take his place and power, thinking he would be easier to manipulate than Lovino.

They never did find all of him.

The door opened and Matthew's second walked in. Dressed in a black pantsuit and frankly threatening stilettos, Alicia was the first person Matthew considered a personal project. He didn't have many moral lines he wouldn't cross, but slavery was one of them. He made his position clear his first year in Italy, taking a risk to go in and systematically dismantle a sex trafficking ring in Florence. It had taken time that made Lovino twitchy, but the night he wiped it from the face of the earth, showing everyone just who the young Vargas had brought back with him from America, a teenage girl had watched him slaughter everyone in his path, black hair a mess but utterly unflinching. When he'd attempted to leave her for the police to find, she had followed him, saying with a strong voice and dead eyes that she owed him a life debt. He'd almost turned her down, but he had remembered the night he'd almost let himself be killed in the streets of New York. He knew what it was like to not have a purpose after something traumatic, though he had no idea what she had survived. He took her with him. Only Lovino knew her whole story, knew how Matthew had chosen his own prodigy to train and lead. Now, for hand to hand combat, the only one who could beat her was Matthew. Her true skills rested in knife work. She gave her loyalty to Matthew like Matthew gave his to Lovino and he trusted her with his life.

Only the grunts thought that she was his lover. In truth, she was a lesbian and encouraged the rumors about the two of them. As fucked as it was, if she was seen as belonging to Matthew it left her in a position to be mostly free of sexual harassment, though the younger set had stopped getting handsy with her when the last guy walked away missing a hand.

This was a room full of men and women savvy enough to lead in a criminal family. No one blinked as Alicia approached him with a manila envelope in hand, though some eyed them warily. Alicia had given him a daily report in his office hours ago. For her to come into the setting with information that had to be urgent, it was a red letter day.

She handed him the envelope and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "The invitation we've been expecting." Alicia touched his shoulder lightly, having some idea of how concerned he had been over receiving such a thing. It would have been untoward from anyone else, but he was the only person she touched like this, like it was casual and natural. Once she had learned to deal with her trauma in a productive if questionably healthy way, she was open and affectionate once her guard was down and it was hard to turn off once she trusted you. Matthew didn't protest though no one else had leave for even this briefest of touches except Lovino. It kept up the illusion there was something more than loyalty and a shared past between them. They weren't quite friends, the disparity in their power levels evident in a way it wasn't between him and Lovino in private. (Lovino never actually treated him as a subordinate unless it was for the pageantry of Family; anything else would have led to questions about what Matthew was to him and possibly war.) The only person he would burn the world for was Lovino, but that didn't mean the stars themselves wouldn't shudder if something happened to his second.

This was the problem of trusting so few people in their business; you tend to get attached. It was a damn good thing Alicia and Lovino could take care of themselves or Matthew might have gone grey with worry already.

Matthew simply nodded his thanks and dismissal to Alicia. Used to his countenance, she turned and stalked out the room without further ado.

Before the door had closed behind her, Matthew reached into the envelope and pulled out thick cardstock. He was no Sherlock Holmes, but he knew expensive stationary when he saw it. The calligraphy, no doubt inked by hand, was simple but elegant curling lines of black, inviting Lovino Vargas and his Right Hand to a meeting in neutral territory to discuss recent skirmishes between the lower levels of their groups and to a masked ball that followed. With their desired security, of course. The back was blank.

The neutral location? Monaco, with a temporary truce called between all attendees.

The hosts? The Horsemen.

It's not that he wasn't on some level relieved the invitation had come. Talking about skirmishes before they became territory disputes and all out wars was ideal. Additionally, word was being passed through appropriate channels that this party was happening and the up-and-coming of the criminal world were all invited to one place to build trade deals and end disputes. This was either the greatest idea or it would lead to everyone being arrested or killed. There was a reason their business was conducted in the dark, after all.

God, but he was not looking forward to this. On one hand, the libido he kept on the shortest leash possible had looked up in unquenchable interest in getting out of Italy and the chance to fucking _indulge_ for once. On the other, he would be in a city full of criminal royalty. His face wasn't well known, but it still wouldn't be completely safe. He wouldn't even consider it but it had been three years since he'd had a social orgasm. No matter how easy it was to ignore this occasional need at home, he couldn't ignore it forever. It was past time and he knew it.

More importantly, he didn't know what to expect with the Horsemen. They were relatively new, rising in the past five years with a shockingly expansive network of contacts throughout the world, but their strongholds were in Western and Central Europe. He'd tried to gather what information he could, but their identities were closely guarded behind more firewalls and back channels than even his hackers could get through. Here's what he did know.

The group was led by the Four Horsemen, each going by a moniker that matched their area of expertise.

Famine was based in France, dealing vice with the expert hand of a hardened libertine. Luxury and pleasure enough to die for was their coin and they traded it liberally. What couldn't be bought with pleasure (or a deprivation of it) could be handled through blackmail.

Pestilence controlled drug production, transport, and distribution. As Matthew understood it, they also dabbled in terrifying chemical weapons, but preferred making sure those seeking a particular chemical got what they were looking for. They were based in Iberia, though he couldn't confirm which country.

War was a mercenary turned arms dealer, Feliciano's equivalent but apparently he looked and lived up to his name. War was the only one he had a confirmed gender for, a deep masculine laugh sounding before a deafening boom on a recording sending a thrill of interest down Matthew's spine when he had heard it. He controlled Central Europe with a ruthlessness that had an informant literally shaking, damn near begging to be put on a different assignment. (Matthew ordered them elsewhere; they did good work and there was no reason to break them as of yet. Plus, if you granted a few requests here and there, people were more likely to be loyal to you.)

Death was the most mysterious, with the least amount of information available about them. The best _guess_ was that Death was based in the UK or Ireland, but that was mostly due to continued silence of the more historic groups in those countries. He could only confirm somewhere in northern Europe. Apparently they were not only an information broker, but also ran a somewhat legitimate security firm, with backing from several different organizations and governments. Death was the tipping point that made this group of four not only a possible threat but Matthew's number one concern outside of Italy.

If as many power players as he thought were going to be at this party, then he was not the only one with a wary eye on the new group.

Lovino would want to go. He liked to get a feel for situations in person, a character trait that was going to give Matthew a heart attack one of these days. Beyond that, he _needed_ to go. The heir apparent to the Vargas Family couldn't not show up. Not only would it be a sign of weakness to every hungry group ( _Maybe they don't feel safe outside their territory? Maybe the territory is unstable enough that Vargas couldn't leave for a weekend?_ ), but it would be a snub that they honestly couldn't afford to give to the Horsemen. One of the greatest strengths of being in a position of power was recognizing the limitations of your reach. Ambition is good, but blind ambition will get you killed. Anyone who didn't learn that early on didn't last.

Matthew debated giving Lovino the invitation now or in private, not entirely sure how much notice he wanted to give the others about his leaving. They only had a month to get everything in order. Lovino made the decision for him.

"Ghost, is that what I think it is?"

Wordlessly, Matthew stood and closed the distance between them. He offered the invitation to him almost absently, his main gun hand loose and ready at his side. He didn't think a threat was eminent from the people in this room per se, but it never hurt to be ready. Lovino hummed and Matthew knew without looking at him he was grinning. "We're going. Do what we need to get there a couple days early."

Matthew simply took the invitation back and settled once more in his seat, face impassive but internally sighing. He'd known that this was coming, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

He glanced down at the invitation, allowing a small glower before putting back in the envelope. Trepidation flooded him for a moment but he pushed it away to begin planning their trip with half a mind. Matthew had a lot to do to get them and their security out of their territory without fucking things up or offending someone they couldn't just kill. And Lovino would probably want to meet with a couple other groups while he was there and those were negotiations that usually took _months_ and…

Matthew allowed himself a small sigh. He had a bad feeling about this.

A/N: I'm having a shitty day. Have a new story (I swear I'll update Don't Get Cut soon). This fic is entirely self-indulgent.

If you don't know me, a lot of my stories are inspired by music I like to share with people. This story was inspired by the song "Dark Doo Wop" by MS MR and that is also where the title came from. The song for this chapter is "Monster (Acoustic Version)" by Ruelle.


	2. Chapter 1: Twenty-Four Hours

Chapter 1: Twenty-Four Hours

Matthew tipped the bellhop on her way out and focused on Lovino, waiting for his orders. His friend had been annoying tight lipped about why they were arriving in Monaco a full day and a half before he had scheduled any meetings. It made him nervous and pushed him further over the edge of control that he had been teetering on precariously for the past month.

Between the delicate negotiations he had been orchestrating, the level of detail he paid attention to in getting them prepared not only to travel but also to attend a formal masquerade ( _who's bright idea_ was _that?)_ , the security concerns he had to address despite the truce called between all attending organizations…Matthew was at his rope's end. And it was a _very_ long rope.

He had done his best to keep the strain from affecting how he worked, but he was pretty sure he failed. No one died but when he had lost his temper and verbally snapped at a mid-level grunt for stirring up trouble with a rival family over a romantic affair, everyone started treating him with kid gloves. Even Alicia stopped touching him casually after he'd tensed one too many times at the contact. He _needed_ to find a few hours at some point this weekend to just _let go_ , or people would start paying for his temper with more than fear. But he couldn't plan when those hours would be until Lovino _told him_ what he was planning.

At the moment, his brother-in-arms was staring out of the window and into Monaco's darkening sky. The room itself was luxurious in a way that was generically elegant; everything screamed money but none of it was garish. It was one of the most exclusive hotels in the city, though not _the_ most expensive because they could only spend so much money and not draw unnecessary attention to themselves. Matthew had learned how to walk the line between respectably wealthy and embarrassingly nouveau riche years ago. He waited silently for him to speak for a moment before realizing it was just them and letting himself relax a fraction. "Lovi."

His friend turned with a smile to him. "Ghost?"

"What do you need me to do?" There was always something to be done, always a scheme going in his friend's mind, strings to pull, influence to gain. It made life fascinating but it was also the reason he had gone three years without a vacation.

"I'm giving you a gift." When Matthew just stared at him, too bone-weary to play along, Lovino shook his head. "A long overdue one. The next twenty-four hours are yours to do with as you please. You are to go off the grid. I don't want to hear from you in any capacity but that of your friend until 19:00 tomorrow."

Matthew blinked at him. He had _never_ had that much time to himself since he'd become Ghost. Not. Once. All of his plans for security called for him being on call if not on hand. The times when he had let himself go had only been when he was out of the country on assignment without Lovino. Even taking a few hours with him in the city left him uneasy. "But security—"

"Can go one day without you looking over their shoulders. Hell, they'll probably cry from relief when I tell them you're going to be unavailable for a bit. Not to mention I can handle myself. I am technically your boss, you know." Matthew continued to stare at him, unconvinced. "Look, things are a lot safer for me now than they were at the beginning. We're not upstarts anymore, Ghost. We're established and respected. You starting to take some time for yourself after seven years would be a sign of that. More importantly," Lovino stepped closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine—"

"Bullshit. You think I didn't notice my Right Hand losing his patience? Or how quick to anger you've been for the past six months? The past few weeks have been bad, but it wasn't out of nowhere. This is more than you scaring the shit out of everyone; this is you falling apart at the seams."

With Matthew was still shaking his head, Lovino sighed. "Making me pull out the big guns…fine." Lovino grabbed his face in both hands and looked him in the eyes. His words barely disturbed the air as he breathed, "Matthew, when was the last time you let yourself be you?"

Matthew flinched hard at the use of his name, recoiling but Lovino's hands held him firm. He swallowed audibly, but managed to answer him, "Havana. Three years ago."

"And for how long?"

"Four hours."

Lovino sighed, releasing his head and dropping his hands. "Was that also the last time you got laid?" Matthew stayed quiet, which was answer enough. "Ghost, you can't go that long without the touch of another human being. For the love of God, how are you even functioning?"

"I've been busy, Lovi. You know that," Matthew said, exhaustion in his voice. Lovino was too right for him to deny it any longer. "There hasn't been a good or safe enough time for me to leave Italy just for a fuck."

"But it's not just sex to you, Ghost. It's the only time you let yourself be human and not some boogeyman. It's how you remind yourself who you are under the blood and gore and fuck, how are you still _sane?_ I thought you had taken time for yourself for so many weekends…what the hell have you been doing in your free time?"

Lovino wasn't wrong. It wasn't known that he was gay in Italy and the aura of mystery to his sex life added to his myth. But the real reason he had never dared to take a lover in the country was _how_ he had sex. He simply couldn't fuck as anything or anyone but Matthew. Not even Mateo Vargas, his legal name on all his official documents issued after he met Lovino, but Matthew Williams. If word had ever gotten back to _any_ Family in Italy who he was under the terrifying exterior that he had painstakingly created, so much of his and Lovino's safety would be compromised. His threat was nearly perfect, the name of Ghost stopping plots before they even began against Lovino. People learning who he could be would shatter that. It made it easier to find a lover that was completely discrete abroad, and much less stressful. People wanted Ghost dead; no one cared about hunting Matthew. "Making plans, establishing contacts, forging networks. You know, my job."

"You're telling me you've been working every day for the past three years? 'Cause that's fucking unacceptable."

Matthew shrugged. "Do you want me to lie?"

Lovino didn't scream, but the noise in frustration he made was near enough. "I am so pissed at you, I can barely see straight. You _have_ to take care of yourself, Ghost!"

"I have been." He maintained a usually strict schedule of eating, exercising, and sleeping. His body was a weapon and he made sure it was always in top form so it wouldn't fail him when he needed it the most.

"Relaxation is part of—you know what? Get out. This is cutting into time you need. If I didn't need you at negotiations, you would have the whole weekend off. We are _talking about this_ later, though. This will not happen again, do you understand me?"

"Yes, boss." Matthew demurred and turned to leave, thoroughly dismissed.

Something was heading towards him fast and he didn't think, just reacted. He shifted to the side quickly as a pillow flew past where he had been standing. He looked back at Lovino with raised eyebrows. "I'm not your fucking _boss_ today. I'm your worried, pissed off friend. And tomorrow we are going to day drink and you're going to tell me about breaking your long fast. Now _leave_."

Matthew shook his head, but gave him a smile so genuine it felt misplaced on his face. "See ya, Lovi."

He heard Lovino grouse _fucking bastard_ under his breath as he walked out and faced the security in the hall. They all startled, some even flinching, at the relaxed expression on his face. Maybe he had done more damage with his moods than he thought. Only one person seemed relieved at his smile and that was Alicia. He took in the dark circles under her eyes, the subtle weariness in her posture and his smile faded. She worked when he did, except that he forced her to take at least one day a week off. If there was anyone else he trusted to watch his back while he did this, he would tell her to take a day for herself as well. As it was…he would give her next week off.

He said, tone unyielding, "Report directly to the boss tonight, or Ric." Ricardo was Lovino's head of security and one of the few Matthew trusted to watch his friend's back when he couldn't do it himself. "There's been a change in plans. Alicia, with me."

He turned to his assigned room, across the hall from Lovino's, and Alicia opened the door for him before proceeding to do a quick check of the room to make sure it was clear. It was like she hadn't been in here only minutes earlier seeing to his bag and making sure the room wasn't bugged, but he appreciated her thoroughness; it was why she was his second. When she was done, she turned to him, big eyes assessing and ready for anything. "What's the plan?"

He smiled sheepishly at her and she blinked at him. He trusted her with this part of him, though he had never told her his entire story or his name. While he was in Havana she had been his eyes and ears in Italy. The time before that, he didn't trust her as much. Maybe it was time. He said, "I need your help. It's something I would only trust you or Lovino with."

"Anything." She said and he knew she meant it.

"I need you to make me harmless."

"…What?"

* * *

The music in the club was going to give Matthew a headache if he stayed for long. He knew that the moment he entered the upscale establishment. Alicia was by his side, really just moral support as he braved stepping back into the ever evolving and confounding arena that was finding a partner for the night. She had done her best to make sure he looked less like the monster who would eat bad little mobsters if they misbehaved and more like a man looking for a good time. She'd swept his hair up into a messy bun and dressed him down to expensive black jeans, a blue button-up, and boots. Alicia had pursed her lips when he'd vetoed the body armor and most of his weapons, but he was carrying a gun at his back, concealed by a black leather jacket, and several knives. After he'd gotten out of the shower, she'd slathered his lips in balm and did something to his eyes to make the blue of them pop without it being clear he had on make-up.

He'd checked himself out in the mirror before leaving and could admit he looked acceptable enough. The jeans fell over the boots in a relaxed way but showed off his thighs and ass without it looking like they were a size too small. The shirt did nothing to hide just how in-shape he was but left enough mystery to make interested parties want to see more. The color made his eyes stand out in almost startling relief and he thought he might actually be able to get someone to bed him tonight.

There had been a change in guard by the time Matthew exited his room to meet Alicia in the lobby and they had been shocked speechless. A couple had been slack jawed. When he'd asked point blank if there was a problem, one of them (Alonzo) had stammered, "We've never seen you wear color, sir." That was fair enough; Alicia had to run to the closest open store to get the shirt for him (she knew his measurements). He'd left them without further comment.

Now he surveyed the room for a place to perch and observe on instinct. Alicia, dressed in a backless purple dress that had people turning to stare, tugged at his jacket sleeve to get his attention and then tilted her head towards the bar. Right, he had to blend in. Getting a drink was the typical thing to do.

They walked towards the bar, Alicia no longer touching him. He weaved in the crowd, flowing through spaces like he was water, and quickly made it to the long bar. One of the four bartenders behind the counter acknowledged him as she layered colorful liqueurs on top of each other in a shot glass, meaning she would be with him in a moment.

"Boss," Alicia started.

"What do you want to drink?" Matthew asked, looking at her.

"I'll get my own but you need to tone it down."

"What?" He asked a little louder, not quite hearing her. Italian came easily to him now, but if he couldn't hear it clearly, then his brain had problems filling in the blanks. The bartender asked him what he wanted in French and he asked for a double of Macallan, neat. When he drank, he preferred scotch, and he didn't want to have to come right back to the bar after finishing his drink in five minutes.

"Ghost." He looked at Alicia and she seemed exasperated if fond.

"Yes?"

"You're still acting like the boss. The way you walk, your demeanor, hell, even your drink order, it's all far too dominant for what you told me you're looking for. It'll be hard to find someone with your…specifications."

Matthew sighed, handing over his card to the woman. He always closed his tab after a drink, so if he needed to leave somewhere quickly he wouldn't have to send someone back inside to get his credit card. "I like my drink."

"I know, sir," she said, patting him on the arm. "You shouldn't change that, but you're not clocking people as potential partners but potential threats. Were you aware of the people checking you out at you as we walked over? Or the three men currently staring at your ass and wondering if you go for men?"

Matthew shrugged, took care of the bill, and moved out of the way of the bar, letting Alicia go order her drink. He sipped from his scotch, enjoying the burn of it over his tongue and down his throat, and tried to silence the predator in his head. He let his eyes really take in more than the exits and statistics and odds in a fight and saw at least one man's eyes flit away quickly when Matthew caught him staring. He probably needed to soften the stare as well…

Actually, no, he didn't. He thought about what he wanted and how long it had been since anyone touched him. Matthew thought about what his body _craved_ , what would truly be an indulgence for him, and took the monster off of mute. He wanted a man who wasn't intimidated by who or what he was. He wanted to be topped by someone who _could_ top him just as he was, who would notice the danger that seeped from him and be not only intrigued but _hungry_. That was the kind of man he wanted give himself to tonight. If he was here for a few hours and no one seemed up to the challenge, he would lower his standards and just aim for a quick release. It wouldn't be as satisfying but it would do.

So Matthew didn't try to lose the easy power in his stance, the expectation to be respected and obeyed at a word that was apparent in his every gesture after three years with no break. It was a part of him now and he wanted to find someone who could handle that. When Alicia turned back to him and saw that his edge had sharpened further rather than dulled, her brow furrowed but she didn't try to call it to his attention again. He needed to give her a raise.

"You're the expert. What's the plan?"

"We are going to loiter around here and drink these." She held up a glass that smelled strongly of gasoline, even in the already saturated air of the club. "Be seen. Then we're going to separate and dance so people don't think we're together. I'll watch out for you from a distance; text me when you're leaving for the night."

So they did.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Matthew was sitting at a small booth with his back to the wall, fresh drink in his hand and eyes scanning the room. This was a good vantage point, tucked away from most of the room and shadowed enough to hide its inhabitants as long as they weren't at the end of the bench like he was. He needed a break from the crush of people dancing, not used to being touched or surrounded and not liking it at all. A few people had offered a dance but none of them had been what he was looking for and he didn't like to waste his time. He _did_ like dancing by himself, however. It had been a long time since he just let himself feel and react to something as simple as music. The movement had helped him settle back into himself and perhaps this small pleasure he could allow himself while in Italy, surrounded by enemies. He had been too long without so many things, had let himself become little more than a machine, and the novelty of free movement drove home just how much things needed to change if he didn't want to burn out. Hell, it was a miracle he was still functional at all.

Matthew felt someone's stare and sought their gaze. Standing at the bar was a pale man with wide shoulders (black button down, _nice_ ) and hair that shone a strange shade of silver in the shifting lights of the club. There was an ease to his demeanor that spoke to confidence and security in himself. Even from a distance, he could see the man was handsome, almost brutally so, the lines of his face revealing dark eyes and unrelenting masculinity. He saw Matthew had caught him and instead of looking away at the coldness on his face, the man looked him up and down, eyes lingering not only on the fit of his clothes, but the slightest bulk of where he had weapons concealed on him. When the man met his eyes again and _smirked_ , Matthew felt a shot of interest go down his spine. He straightened and licked his lips. The man didn't make a move towards him, just lifted his drink (a beer) to his lips, a silver band glinting on his left hand. Married, then, and wanting him to know it. Only wanted some fun. Discrete. Matthew smiled.

"Hey, handsome. You speak English?" greeted a young feminine voice and Matthew broke the silent exchange he'd been having with the man to turn to see two young women, both a little drunk. They were pretty in a young-reckless-carefree kind of way and they were so barking up the wrong tree for whatever they wanted. "You look like you could give us what we want."

Matthew couldn't help but smile a little at that, eyes going cold in a way that should have had them running in the opposite direction. "I doubt it."

The one on the right visibly flinched from the look, immediately wary despite whatever her intoxication level was. She tugged at her friend's arm insistently, apologizing for bothering him. She was a survivor. Her friend lacked the instinct and pouted at him. "Bet we could change your mind."

"Ye can't, lass," came a masculine, purring voice from a man all but appearing out of the shadows over Matthew's shoulder. Even _he_ had not been aware of his approach and that was equal parts concerning and thrilling. "Ye lack wha' _he_ wants."

The survivor paled at the sight of the new comer and even her less aware friend seemed to get the message that they needed to leave. They melted back into the crowded dance floor and the man stepped into Matthew's field of vision and _Jesus,_ no wonder they had gone at the sight of him.

He was intimidatingly beautiful. His high, sharp cheekbones gave his face a fae-like edge that was at once delicate and deadly. The straight lines of his nose and jaw only added to the near other-worldly beauty of him. _And his eyes._ They were amused, dangerous green pools, set off by the dark red hair hanging carelessly over his forehead. Matthew never thought he had a thing for gingers but _goddamn._ A cupid bow mouth (with a full bottom lip that Matthew wanted to _bite_ ) quirked to the side as he watched Matthew take him in. His amusement deepened as Matthew unabashedly took in the long lines of his body, the hints of muscle discernable through the black, well-cut cloth, the weapons concealed unless you were looking hard and for them. When Matthew met his eyes again, he tilted his head a little to the side, coy smile on his face. "I didn't need the help."

"I know." He placed a hand on the table, drawing Matthew's gaze to the ring on his finger. _Figures he's married,_ he thought. _Whoever managed to snag this one was_ not _letting go if the interior at all matched the package._ "Tha' seat taken?" The man nodded to the space on the other side of Matthew, closer to the wall and despite the fact there was a perfectly good seat across from him or that he could slide around the circular booth to get there. Something told Matthew he didn't want to suffer the indignity.

"Not yet. You want it?" He lifted his chin a little, exposing more of his neck in invitation, a silent explanation of what he was looking for. His answer was an offered hand. Matthew didn't need help to stand, but he took it all the same. He stood mostly on his own power, noting the strength in this stranger's hand. Then he was jerked forward enough that their bodies pressed against each other, each feeling the weapons they wore. The redhead smiled and lifted a hand to caress his jaw as he leaned down. Matthew met the offered kiss halfway, more than ready for it, free hand coming to rest on his side. He did his best not to fall apart as he put any skill he had acquired over the years into that kiss, as well as hint at the need he felt. He kissed back at first domineering then acquiescing, trying to convey what he wanted. The man made a sound that Matthew felt more than heard as his hand gripped the back of Matthew's neck. He met Matthew's tongue with his own. _God_ , it had been _so long_ since he'd been kissed like this—

It was too much and Matthew broke the kiss to breathe and collect himself, eyes wide as he stared up a little into the man's face. Matthew was used to being the tallest person in the room back in Italy, so the act of looking up alone was a novelty. The stranger seemed startled by his response, though Matthew wasn't sure why. What he said was, "I'm Matthew."

"Alistair," he answered, hand running down Matthew's back, deliberately missing the gun at the base of his spine.

Matthew grinned at him, the chemicals rushing through his brain at that one kiss alone making the smile natural. "The seat's yours if you want it."

"I do." Alistair kissed him again then slid into the seat, pulling Matthew in with him. He couldn't help glancing back to where the first man to catch his eye had been, but he had moved and wasn't immediately visible. He let it go and focused on Alistair. The man was too knowing and lethal in how he moved to not be here for the same reason Matthew was, probably from some far corner of Europe or maybe working in the British Isles. Not Italy, which was his only requirement right now.

"You're…Scottish?" He asked, remembering watching old James Bond films and the original Star Trek as a kid.

Alistair smiled a little at him. "Got it in one. Most guess Irish. An' yer…American?"

Matthew sighed, but it was good natured. "Canadian, actually. _Everyone_ guesses American."

Alistair leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, "Sorry ta disappoint, then."

He put a hand on his thigh and Matthew was going to spontaneously combust. "I-it's fine."

"Ye seem sensitive," he said, hand squeezing his leg a little and Matthew shivered.

"It's been a while. Since I last…went out." _Since anyone last touched me. Since I let myself feel this._ He put his hand on top of Alistair's, stopping the slow journey up his thigh it had been making. He was half-hard already and that was a little too telling.

"Ye don't mean wha' I think, yeah?"

"I don't know what you're thinking." Hell, he barely knew what _he_ was thinking, let alone Alistair.

"How long has it been since someone touched ye, Matthew?" The use of his name, spoken in that intimate tone made his breath catch and he couldn't help himself from spilling this harmless truth.

"Three years." Alistair seemed to freeze at that, the breath that had been pushing at Matthew's neck with every exhale stalling. Matthew turned his head to stare at him, finding a blank look on his face. "Is that a problem?"

Alistair's eyes snapped back into focus, reading the hesitance in Matthew's expression and he growled out, " _Come here_." His hands were insistent and lifting on Matthew's hips, the surprising strength of him making rationality fly out of Matthew's head. He straddled Alistair's lap, leaning down to kiss him again because the taste of him on his tongue was fading and he needed it to remain. He kissed him like the world was going to end and Alistair's hands squeezed his ass possessively, pulling Matthew's hips against him. The action made him cry out, fully hard and too desperate to be ashamed now. Alistair groaned, " _How_ has no one touched ye fer tha' long? Feckin' criminal, tha' is."

Matthew smiled against his lips. "Par for the course for people like us, then."

Alistair gave a startled bark of laughter, hands moving down the outside of his thighs now. "Oh, I _like_ ye."

"You should be flattered," came a voice from the head of their table, forcing Matthew to once again notice his surroundings. _Shit_ , but he had really let himself go for a moment there. The man who spoke was the same one he had seen at the bar, bigger up close and built like a warrior of old, the kind of physique to inspire epic poets. He indeed had silver hair but his eyes were not a dark brown like he had suspected from a distance, but crimson. His nose had been broken and healed a little off, humanizing the nearly perfect face. There was a small patch of shinny skin on the right side of his jaw, a scar from something, but it only succeeded in making him more dangerously alluring. He had an amused smirk on his face, eyes dancing with laughter. "He likes very few people."

"Matthew," Alistair said, leaning back against the seat, hands still on his legs. "This is me husband, Gilbert. Gilly, this is Matthew."

Oh.

Alrighty then.

Matthew blinked at the man who sat beside them and offered a hand, smiling. For lack of a better thing to say, he tried, "Nice to meet you, Gilbert"

The smirk widened. "Likewise." He had an accent that sounded like German, but Matthew wasn't sure. He hadn't heard a lot of German-accented English. He took Matthew's hand but raised it to his lips and _fuck_ , was this real life? "Call me Gil."

Matthew was too thrown to keep himself from saying, "Mattie." He froze then, trying to get control of himself. No one called him Mattie, not even Lovino since they came to Italy. He was too far—

"Well, Mattie," Gilbert started and Matthew's heart stuttered in his chest. He'd fucked up and fucked up bad because he wanted to hear these two strangers say that name. He wanted that piece of himself back, a piece he thought left behind with his brother's corpse somewhere, if only for a night. "We were looking for someone to share our bed tonight. Are you interested or do we have to try and find someone else?"

"No," Alistair said, hands tightening on Matthew. "It's him tonight or no one."

Gilbert lifted an eyebrow at Alistair as Matthew said, "Yes. I want this." He grabbed the front of Gilbert's shirt in one hand and pulled him into a kiss. He wouldn't have been able to move the man without his consent and Gilbert kissed him like he was on board with the idea. He was more aggressive than Alistair, not waiting for Matthew to give ground before taking what he wanted and _fuck,_ that was perfect. And Gilbert? He wanted _everything._

Matthew pulled away, heavy lidded and dazed. Alistair, who was starting to get hard beneath him, said, _"Gorgeous._ " He was helpless to do anything but watch as the couple kissed each other. The touch was as heated as it was playful, the men familiar enough with each other to make a game out of the movements of their mouths. It was enthralling and Matthew wasn't sure he was going to survive this night if this was just a taste of what was to come.

When they eventually separated, lips almost reluctant to part, Matthew asked, "I'm not dreaming, right? This is real?"

They both looked at him, bemused. "As real as anything is." Gilbert said.

"Then what dark god do I thank for this?" He kissed Gilbert again, hand running down Alistair's chest.

Alistair laughed lowly. "Think of it as a reward fer yer patience. Gilly, guess how long Mattie's gone without bein' touched." His hands were back to kneading his ass and Matthew was going to lose it, just strip in the middle of this club and beg one of them to fuck him, if they didn't get out of here soon.

"Hmm." Gilbert pulled back and looked Matthew over. "Two, three months on the outside."

Matthew blushed and cursed himself for it. "Ah, no."

Gilbert frowned. "Six months." Matthew cringed. "Come on, Matthew, look at you. How could you go longer than that? You're beautiful, likable, adventurous, and fucking sexy. You love being touched if what I've seen so far is any indication. It can't have been longer than that."

His face was _burning_. "I was busy? Working?"

"Try three _years_ , Gilly. _Three_." Alistair said before leaning in and nipping at Matthew's neck. That area was particularly sensitive and Matthew's eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of teeth there, embarrassment forgotten.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal," he murmured, thinking the sound would be lost in the crash and ramble of the club. Matthew ran a hand through Alistair's hair, showing him he liked the attention, and looked at Gilbert who seemed floored. Alistair bit him then and sucked on the spot and Matthew moaned. It had been _so long_ since he'd been marked and it was definitely something he missed. To think how these two men could mark him…

"We need to get out of here before we take this too far," Gilbert said quickly, hands rubbing his thighs.

Alistair pulled away from Matthew's neck and said, "Agreed. Mattie, wha' do ye want ta do? Wha' do ye want us ta do tonight?"

Well, since they asked…"I need you to fuck me." Both of them jolted at the words and, if they were willing to indulge him, he would have the courage to ask for what he wanted. He closed his eyes and let his mouth say what he needed. "It's been three years since anyone touched me or kissed me or held me down. It's been three long years, and another year before that, without someone inside me and I _need it_. I need to feel it tomorrow, and next week, and next month because I don't know when I'll be able to feel it again. So I don't care if you take turns or one of you watches or _whatever,_ but I need someone to fuck me through the floor and take away my control for the night." He opened his eyes find them staring at him, hunger on their faces. "Is that okay?"

They shared a long look and Alistair said, "I think we can help ye out."

* * *

It was round two for him, his back to Gilbert's chest, Gilbert inside him. He gasped for breath, begging, "More."

"I don't want to break you." Gilbert said, hips still moving in slow circles and driving Matthew insane.

Matthew laughed, leaned his head back against Gilbert's shoulder, and looked at him. "You couldn't break me if you tried."

Gilbert said lowly, strain and a dangerous rumble in his voice, "Are you so sure of that?" His thrust harder into him and it felt so good it was nearly pain. Gilbert re-positioned the hand he had against the front side of Matthew's shoulder to hold them against each other and put it on his neck, squeezing the sides a little. "Color?"

"Green! _Green, green, green_."

"Feckin' hell." He heard Alistair say and he slit his eyes open to see the man lounging beside them, expression rapt and dick coming back to life after spilling inside him not twenty minutes prior.

Matthew held his gaze as he spoke to both of them, words hissing into the room, " _Ruin me_."

They obliged him.

* * *

Matthew pulled away from Alistair's kiss and sighed. He wasn't sure how far he could walk, but he didn't know if after what they had done he could emotionally handle the strain of them kicking him out. He would leave of his own volition and give the married couple their bed back. He was exhausted in the best way and about one more minute of immobilization from falling asleep. If he was going to make it back to his room and shower before he passed out, he needed to go now.

He made his way to the edge of the bed and tried to find his pants. There, in the far corner. Alistair must have flung them to the side when he tore them off of him. He stood, ignoring the pain shooting up his spine at the movement and hobbled over to where his jeans and underwear were. Matthew couldn't help but smile to himself at the aches. Gilbert and Alistair had done as he'd asked and he would probably be feeling the echoes of this night for a week. When he leaned down to pick up the bundle of clothes, Gilbert said, tone confused, "What are you doing?"

Matthew turned around, clothes in hand, and saw Gilbert still lounging where he'd left him, nude and beautiful. Alistair was staring at him quizzically from where he sat on the edge of the bed now, one leg bent in front of him and the other touching the floor. "Um, getting dressed?"

"Why?"

"…because I need to?"

"Yer leavin'?" Alistair said, clearly taken aback and maybe Matthew was doing this wrong.

"Isn't that what you want? That's what usually happens…" His cheeks burned and he averted his eyes, suddenly aware of his nakedness. There was a marked difference between simply being without clothes and feeling exposed. He was now on the wrong side of that line.

Alistair walked to him and took his face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. "Yer tellin' us that men have fucked ye and then immediately kicked ye out before?"

"Yes, every time…Isn't that how this works?" He hated how naïve he sounded, how inexperienced. Including Alistair and Gilbert, Matthew could count on both hands the number of men he'd been with and still have fingers left. It hadn't seemed to matter until that moment. Alistair released him and shared a long look with Gilbert that Matthew couldn't read.

Gilbert answered him, rising from the bed. "No, that's not how this works." His words had a rasping undercurrent to them, eyes blazing, and Matthew was reminded that he actually knew very little about the two men he had given himself to. He didn't know who they worked for or what they traded in or if this little indulgence would cost him during the meetings to come. He'd only known that they were not part of the network of Italian organizations that he knew like the back of his hand. These two were completely unconnected to the Families as far as the most recent information on key players back home said, which was why Matthew had been okay with going with them. But now— "How this works, Matthew, is that we are all going to take a shower, then we are all going to sleep. When we wake up," he smiled then but it didn't completely get rid of the cutting edge in his eyes, "I would personally enjoy morning sex, but that's just me. Also, breakfast, if you have nowhere to be."

Matthew blinked. "I can stay?" He wanted to stay. He wanted this bubble of freedom to last because the _second_ he stepped outside this hotel room, he wouldn't have the luxury of being simply Matthew. He would leave and have to be Ghost again, for the safety of himself and the people he cared about. He would have to go back to being the silent, menacing presence at Lovino's back, the unfeeling monster in the dark as far as most were concerned. Matthew was fine with doing what was needed but…he wasn't quite ready to let this go.

"Aye, Mattie. If ye want ta."

He beamed at them, beyond pleased, and dropped his jeans. "Then let's go shower."

* * *

Matthew was dreaming, he was sure. After the surprisingly intimate shower, the first he had ever taken with someone else, Gilbert had noticed his stiff movements and offered a back massage. Matthew had readily agreed and knew he had dropped off at some point from the calming yet arousing pressure against his muscles. So Matthew floated in sleep and almost could have sworn he made out a conversation.

"He's special."

"Tha' he is." A long moment of quiet.

"You know who he is when he's not in our bed, don't you."

"Of course."

"Tell me."

"No. Ye know I like surprisin' ye when I can. I'll introduce ye this weekend."

"At that dumb dance?"

"Gilly—"

"I know it has a purpose and Francis put a lot of work into it but it _is_ stupid, Scottie."

A sigh. "Ye know how dramatic they are. But yes, we'll see him at tha ball."

"…He has no clue does he? Who we are?"

"No, but, ta be fair, he had good reason ta be distracted. _Three years_ , Gilbert."

"That won't happen again. He's _ours_ , Alistair."

"Not yet, love. But he will be."

Matthew's dream fell silent as he slipped further into unconsciousness, wondering if he would recall the strange words in the morning.

(He wouldn't.)

* * *

The phone rang and Matthew flung out a hand to silence the damn thing. Or at least, he tried to. He hit sold flesh and heard a grunt in reply. "Sorry," he mumbled, gently caressing the part of the man he'd inadvertently hit. "My phone."

"Yer alright, Mattie," Alistair murmured, rolling away from him to reach the bedside table. Gilbert shifted beneath him, groaning awake. Matthew had his head pillowed on Gilbert's chest and Alistair ended up half draped over them both in the night.

"Alistair, if it's anyone but L or A, turn it off?" Matthew said, snuggling against Gilbert's chest. He liked this waking up against someone thing. He would have to look into a way to get a cuddle buddy…nah.

"It's L."

Matthew sighed. "Of course it is." He held out his hand and Alistair helpfully placed it in his palm. "Thank you, sir."

Gilbert made a choking noise and Matthew smiled against his skin, only opening his eyes long enough to hit the right part of the screen to answer the phone. "Is someone dead?"

" _Always, but no one we knew. Good morning_ , _sunshine_!" Lovino said cheerfully down the line in Italian. Matthew was only going to speak to him in English; no reason to have his bedfellows start asking questions.

"What do you want?" He demanded sullenly.

" _It's eleven and you're not in your room._ "

"Fuck off." When Lovino just laughed at him, he said, "Did you want something or can I go back to sleep?"

" _Late night?_ "

"Goodbye."

" _No, wait! We have food and drinks coming at three, so you need to be back for that."_

"Ugh, fine. 'Bye, asshole."

" _Goodbye, bastard. Don't do anything I wouldn't!_ "

Matthew snorted because he wasn't sure exactly how that limited him and hung up. He tossed his phone to the side and settled back against Gilbert, blindly reaching for Alistair. They had gotten maybe five hours of sleep and Matthew was too tired from months of endless work and their activities the night before to be awake for no reason other than Lovino's fun. "Sorry about that," he said to them, realizing that he was not the only one forced awake by the call. "My friend likes to tease me when he can. He thinks it's funny I'm not in my hotel room."

"He might of thought something happened to you," Gilbert said smoothing his hands down Matthew's back. "Especially if you've always been kicked out after."

Matthew shrugged as Alistair settled back against them, on Gilbert's other side. "He was never around when I…let's just say he was surprised when I told him how long of a drought I was in." He opened his eyes, a little more awake now, and found Alistair staring at him, expression just the slightest bit befuddled. Matthew couldn't help smiling back at him. "Good morning." He turned his head so his chin was resting on Gilbert's chest, giving his human pillow the same greeting.

Alistair leaned over him and kissed along the top of his spine. "Mornin', Matthew."

Matthew shivered and Gilbert smirked at him, a glint in his eye that Matthew was coming to be all too familiar with. "You know what morning means?"

"Sleep?" He said, knowing it was the wrong answer.

"Morning sex." Gilbert's hands gripped his ass hard, parting the cheeks so Alistair could run his fingers between them. When he brushed against Matthew's entrance, a warning shot of pain arched through him and he hissed, cringing away from the touch instinctively. Gilbert and Alistair stopped, Gilbert's hold on him relaxing. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Just a bit…sore. I-I'm sorry." He hid his burning face against Gilbert's chest. _Shit_ , if this was why they let him stay last night and he couldn't deliver—

"Ye have nothin' ta be sorry fer, baby boy," Alistair said, peppering his shoulder blades with kisses. "We're tha ones that hurt ye."

"I'm not hurt, I just shouldn't be fucked right now." Matthew shuddered, enjoying the ache he felt, more pervasive than it had been last night. "You did what I needed; I'll feel last night for a while. I would be happy to do something, though! My mouth still works and—"

" _Liebling_ , do you think we're upset?" He looked up at Gilbert, seeing a frown on his face.

"You're not? The other guys were only interested in—sorry, I shouldn't talk about that." He hastened to say when Gilbert suddenly tensed under him and Alistair stopped kissing his back.

Gilbert dragged him up his body until they were face to face and ran a hand through his hair, eyes cold. "The more I hear about them, the more I think they need to die, Matthew." Matthew's survival instincts rose then, not to tell him that he was in danger, but that he never wanted to be in a position where Gilbert turned his ire on him.

"Mattie, do ye think we don't switch?" Alistair asked, coming to the side and kissing his cheek, like his partner wasn't casually talking about killing someone for a man they had just met. "Yer tha one who set tha tone fer last night. If ye want ta, I would love fer ye ta fuck me."

Matthew blinked at him, blindsided by the lust that rushed through him. Through gritted teeth, he said, "It's been a very long time since I've done that. I won't last."

Gilbert kissed the side of his mouth. "Then it's a good thing I'm here. Fuck my husband open for me, Matthew. If you're up for it."

He was up for it.

* * *

Matthew did his best not to stumble into his hotel room, but it was a near thing. Just walking without a slight, telling limp was difficult, but he so did not want to give away what he'd been doing more than his neck and face already did.

Gilbert and Alistair had clearly picked up on his love of being marked, because there was a constellation of hickeys on his neck. He'd asked Alicia pick up some concealer, but his second had literally thought of everything and said it was already waiting in his hotel room. His mouth was still swollen from the kisses he had given the couple in farewell, reluctant to leave even as he resolved never to see them again if he could help it. Those two were dangerous to him, made him want to be something he couldn't. He also had absolutely no clue who they were, but the masquerade would have a lot of people to hide behind; he could be invisible in plain sight if he wanted to be. He doubted he would see them at the more private meetings he had arraigned; he knew all the players there except for the Horsemen. They were meeting with Famine the next day, since they were the one they had the border incidents with, and neither Gilbert nor Alistair even hinted at any connection to France last night. Then again, he hadn't exactly been the model of the Italian mafia either.

When he'd pulled away from Gilbert for the last time and headed for the door, he had looked at them both and smiled wistfully. He'd said, "You two were worth the wait." He'd left before they had a chance respond.

The security in the hall gave him a double take as he made his way to his room, face impassive, outwardly settled into being Ghost. He would have more time to mentally get himself in order, but he was a little too high on his endorphins and needed a chance to come down. A bath to soothe his muscles would help, but he regretted nothing of what he'd done the night before or that morning even as it made him weak for this short period of time.

He acknowledged the security with a nod and a dead glance, getting into his hotel suite with ease. He would have liked to say he was surprised at Lovino sitting in the living room area, drinking coffee while reading something on his phone, but he wasn't. Matthew rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. Lovino looked up and whistled long and low. "Look at you. You're all glowy and shit."

"I have another hour before our meeting, Lovi. I need a bath."

He moved toward the bedroom, but he heard Lovino getting up to follow him. _Typical_ , he thought, disrobing as he went. "That's when _food_ is coming. But we haven't hung out in forever, you bastard, and you spent most of your time off being fucked…" Lovino trailed off, getting a look at Matthew's back once he'd thrown his shirts off. "And fucked _well_. Who _was_ this guy?"

Matthew couldn't help smirking at him, "More like _who were those guys_?"

Lovino gaped at him, "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not, my friend." Matthew said, rightfully smug as he turned on the water so the tub could fill. He saw some complementary bath salts and threw them in on a whim. "A married couple."

"I need to sit down. I need a chair." Lovino set his mug down on the counter by the sink and fled to roll in the desk chair.

 _So much for privacy,_ Matthew thought, though he wasn't bothered by it. Lovino was right, it _had_ been a long time since they had taken more than a passing moment to just be friends. It wasn't like the Italian hadn't seen him nude before, so Matthew didn't hesitate to lose the rest of his clothes and get into the fast filling tub, hissing at the sting of the water before settling back. Lovino was back soon, pastry in hand, and he sat down. "Tell me everything."

Matthew snorted. "You're my best friend but I am so not telling you details."

"Rude. You have a threesome and aren't willing to let me live vicariously through you? What kind of friend does that?" Matthew wrinkled his nose and flicked water at him. "It's not like I don't know your oh-so-many kinks from that one time you got drunk."

"I thought we agreed to never talk about that night."

" _You_ agreed. I just stood there and made noncommittal noises. Indulge me a little. How many of your kinks did they get to?"

Matthew shivered, despite the hot water he was in. "Almost all of them." A few couldn't be done without an STD screening and a conversation first, so he'd never been able to see if he liked the reality as much as the fantasy, but most everything up to that point was hit.

"Hot _damn_. I'm so happy for you. To think you go three years—which I am still pissed at you about, by the way—and on your first try you get not one but _two_ men willing to blow your mind. What did they look like?"

Matthew smiled close-lipped, closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the tub. "Like heaven itself had spat them out."

* * *

At 19:00 on the dot, he got a call from his second. "Alicia," he answered, back into work mode and comfortable in his skin. He'd needed the break, but all good things had to end.

"We got a call from Famine's people; they want to change the meeting parameters."

Matthew frowned. _This late?_ He thought, though the words themselves were unnecessary to speak. The meeting was tomorrow morning at eleven, with the dance/ball/whatever starting at nine in the evening. "How?"

"The other Horsemen would be there." Matthew sat up abruptly, shock so pervasive that he couldn't suppress his reaction. They had prepared to deal with Famine, Matthew briefing Lovino on all he knew about the person, their role in the organization, and their connections both in and out of France. They would have to scramble to brief him on the other Horsemen, especially with the other meetings they had planned for the day. And the security alone…Matthew had negotiated for it to just be Famine in the room with him and Lovino, no further security, no other weapons than their bodies. This shifted the odds decidedly against the two of them in a fight, especially if War lived up to his name. His mind spinning, his second addressed his silent alarm. "Same time and place. They want to keep outside personnel to a minimum, but will let you in with blades. No firearms. They would be unarmed."

That had him freezing. They were either confident that if it came down to a fight they could beat them with the weapons disparity in place or this was a concession to make up for the last minute change. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"They want to talk about more than the conflicts and the other Horsemen wanted to come. That's all I got." She would have tried for more information, more concessions, because Matthew had trained an already brilliant mind to do that, to push every advantage. Alicia would make a fine boss in her own right. If shit hit the fan back in Italy like he was anticipating it would soon and they all survived the storm, he wanted see how she took to commanding her own operation, if she wanted it.

He made a decision. "We agree to the new terms. Anything else?"

"No boss. The additional information is being sent to your tablet now."

"Thank you, A."

"Of course, sir."

He hung up and looked at Lovino, who was eyeing him carefully. He allowed himself the tiniest smile and said, "Want to court the apocalypse, boss?"

A/N: Oh, buddy. (It's Canada Day, so Happy Birthday to Matthew!)

Edit 3.18.18: I'm taking the next few days to update the Alistair's accent here. Sorry for the temporary inconsistencies!

Song for this chapter: "Bedroom Hymns" by Florence and the Machine.


	3. Chapter 2: The Horsemen

Chapter 2: The Horsemen

While they'd had a good number of hours until the meeting with the Four, Matthew still felt like they had run out of time. He'd scheduled two meetings for Lovino prior to the one with Famine and they had to prepare for those _and_ attend them. The lack of information he had about the Horsemen in general was both a blessing and a curse; they didn't have a lot of time to go over things, but there wasn't much to go over. Matthew still managed to brief Lovino on the confirmed links of the entire organization, but that wasn't saying much.

Luckily, he'd had the foresight to only schedule meetings with groups the Vargas family was on good terms with before meeting Famine. The Honda clan was old school yakuza, though the heir, Kiku, was adaptable enough. He usually dealt with Feliciano since they primarily traded in weapons, but Feliciano was managing things back in Italy. He'd helpfully sent a portfolio of history and dealings with the Hondas to aid their meeting. It resulted in a preliminary trade deal to be worked out further when Feliciano was available.

The other meeting had been with a rival (but not hostile) Italian Family who claimed the other half of the romantic pair Matthew had lost his temper over about a week prior. They had all agreed to avoid the Shakespearean tragedy and let the love-struck idiots self-destruct on their own, while talking though a bubbling border dispute in Sicily. Matthew had been particularly pleased with the latter outcome, liking stability in as much of Italy as possible to not have to rely on his _everything-went-to-shit_ contingency plans for Lovino's safety. It was always good to have options.

He and Lovino were as prepared as he could make them as they headed to the meeting spot, a conference room in a local non-descript office building on the more residential part of town. It was completely unexpected in a way that radiated genius. They couldn't bring a large contingent of security because that would stick out like a sore thumb in the neighborhood, as much as it would if everyone in their group was dressed to impress the devil herself. Only Matthew and Lovino wore suits and all they would be doing was walking in and out of the building rather than loitering outside on watch. Famine had helpfully provided the specs for the building. Their destination was in the center of the structure, free of any windows for security reasons. Alicia and Ric, acting as he and Lovino's personal bodyguards, would accompany them to just outside the room. They had guns, he and Lovino did not.

Matthew was uneasy walking into this meeting for how much uncertainty there was surrounding its purpose. What did the other Horsemen want? They had no dealings with them, as far as Matthew was aware of. Hell, on a global scale, the Vargas Family was pretty small, only having strongholds in Italy and the United States. Why would Famine bother meeting with them alone, nevermind his colleagues? Why were any of them _there_? What was the point of calling power players together for a _ball_ in the first place?

With all these questions unanswered, it was a damn good thing Matthew had taken a break. He felt calmer than he had been for weeks while working. The general tension among the ranks they had brought with them declined markedly, proving that he had indeed been fucking with everyone's functionality. The weekend so far had been a revelation and a huge lesson in his power over the people around him. He couldn't let his personal hang-ups compromise their dynamic again.

They arrived ten minutes early, needing to go through the Horseman's security procedures. Alicia and Ric would go into the room ahead of them, to double check that the four people wore no weapons, while he and Lovino were checked for a lack of firearms.

Things were going smoothly, Matthew being patted down efficiently by a dark-skinned woman with close-cropped hair. She didn't react to the body armor or the number of blades he'd attached to his body. She stepped back, nodded to her fellow guards, and let them pass.

Alicia and Ric took a little longer to come out of the conference room, probably because they had to search twice as many people. When they exited the room, closing the door behind them, Ric was looking at Alicia strangely and for good reason. Matthew's second was pale, looked shaken to her core for some reason, and that worried him.

He couldn't show weakness here, but he wanted to comfort her, ask her what was wrong. In English (no need to put the guards on edge), he said, "Was there a problem?"

Alicia shook her head, swallowing, and Ric said, "No weapons found, sir."

Matthew tilted his head down in acknowledgement, but his eyes were for the woman he trusted the most in the world. "A?" He asked quietly, tone only for her as Lovino strode past for the door.

"Boss—" She said, but cut herself off. Alicia tried again, "They know. You've already—"

"Ghost, is there a problem?" Lovino asked, using his _boss_ voice, eyes wary. He knew Alicia, knew how much it took to shake her, but they also couldn't be late for this meeting.

He understood so he asked Alicia a question, "Is anything or anyone in there actively poised to kill either Lovino or myself?"

"No, but _Ghost_ —"

"Then I have to go." Matthew went around her, caught her abortive movement to stop him. His second didn't warn in him in vain, however. Matthew went against the discussed protocol and went ahead of Lovino. If something dangerous was behind this door, then it would hit him first. Lovino couldn't protest without showing the watching bodyguards that he didn't have complete control over his people, so Lovino just glared at him as Matthew opened the door, stepping into the room to get the first look at the elusive Horsemen…and promptly froze.

No.

Just…no.

His gaze shifted uncontrollably between knowing green eyes and shocked red ones. He stopped breathing as he stared at the two men he'd promised himself he wouldn't see again, if only because he _wanted_ to see them again. There had been brief moments in the past day that his mind flashed back on to that night and morning in all too distracting detail. He'd allowed himself only once, before he'd fallen asleep the night before, to imagine what it would be like if he'd met them in another universe where he wouldn't have to fear running into them for a weekend, where he could be more than a one night diversion for them.

As always, reality managed to screw him over.

Lovino stepped around him as Matthew's mind put the pieces together in his head.

Gilbert. The man with the dark laugh, and the daddy kink, and the amazing hands, and the battle-scarred body. The German soldier of fortune turned merchant of death. War.

Alistair. The man who quoted Star Wars in bed, who fucked like he was making love, and who called him baby boy in that charming accent of his. The Northern European (Scottish) information broker with a security firm. Death.

Matthew had been fucked by Gilbert and Alistair.

Ghost had been fucked by War and Death.

The same War and Death who knew his name, knew who he was under the legend, who now had the power to destroy his myth. They had the keys to destroy the safety that Matthew had worked _seven years_ to build around his friend, and Matthew himself had handed them over.

He was going to be sick.

He was going to kill them.

" _Ghost,_ " Lovino demanded, snapping him out of what was fast becoming a blinding rage. Right. He couldn't kill them. They were here for business. He was Ghost, the unfeeling monster at Lovino Vargas' back. He did not take lovers to feel unearned betrayal ( _they owed him nothing at all, he shouldn't feel like this, he shouldn't feel_ anything). He did not allow himself these weaknesses. He _could not_ allow this weakness. He was nothing. He was no one. He was Ghost.

Ghost cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a moment before looking at Lovino. His boss flinched at the silent inquiry as to what he wanted.

"Close the door." Ghost obeyed, shutting the door behind him before turning back to follow Lovino's cue. He finally looked beyond War and Death to take in the rest of the room, assessing. He could have been shot in the moments he'd stood frozen by the door and would barely have reacted to it.

The Four Horsemen sat along one side of a dark cherry conference table (segmented, multiple supports, solid). The room was lit by ornate chandeliers (glass and iron, retro-fitted electric), making the lighting softer than in most ordinary office buildings (easier to conceal things). There were six black, rolling desk chairs at the table, the only two left unoccupied on opposite sides from the four. The room was long and narrow (approximately four meters by eighteen), but not small enough to fell confining, even with the lack of windows (three ventilation shafts, twelve o'clock, five o'clock, eight o'clock; odd placements but consistent with architecture blueprints).

The Horseman farthest from them stood with a welcoming smile and started approaching them. Tan, he had bright green eyes that traveled over Ghost warily (smart man). He was wearing plain but designer jeans, t-shirt, and dress shoes. The jeans were blue and well-worn and the man moved comfortably in them. The shirt was forest green, making his eye color stand out. Chocolate hair curled slightly and flopped over his forehead. His face was softer, more friendly and handsome in a boy-next-door sort of way. He indeed seemed to be unarmed as he held a hand out to Lovino and said in English with a rolling accent, "Welcome! I'm Pestilence, he/him."

His eyes were on Lovino when he said it and Ghost saw the moment his boss really saw the Horseman of Disease. Pestilence was exactly Lovino's type and, even knowing Lovino had seen and was alarmed over the sudden shift in Ghost's demeanor, he watched his boss blush bright red. He had an urge to raise an eyebrow at that, but he let it pass, taking in the scene impassively. Lovino cleared his throat and said, "Lovino Vargas, he/him. Thank you for the invitation."

"Oh, that was Famine, not me. I'm just here to tag along, offer insight." He dropped Lovino's hand and looked at Ghost, turning the smile on him. This was a negotiation of some sort. He had to be diplomatic. Ghost moved his lips in a small curve and watched some of the brightness leech from Pestilence's face to be replaced by sharp intelligence. "This is your Right Hand, I presume."

"Ghost, he/him." Lovino said, both as an introduction and a command. Ghost stepped forward, offering his hand to the Horseman.

Pestilence took it, smile turning wry and shaking his head. "Famine was right about you two."

Famine. The Horseman who specialized in finding what you wanted the most and turning it against you. Ghost stiffened, barely keeping himself from trembling with rage and betrayal and his own goddamn stupidity. Any attempt at a smile dropped from his face as he stepped back from the Iberian and did his best not to look at the bait he had so willingly taken. _Of course_ , War and Death were sent to offer all that he wanted for a night, were sent to be the perfect bed partners before this meeting. Changing the attendees at the last minute to include War and Death were all just part of Famine's plan to weaken their negotiating position, to create leverage against them both. And it was working.

He was a fool to think that War and Death would want him for any reason besides power. A fucking court jester.

The best night of his life was a lie.

He was going to be sick.

"In what way?" Lovino asked, clearly picking up that something was wrong, _terribly wrong_ , with Ghost and coming to his side.

Pestilence was frowning at them. "You're scary as hell, but is he okay? He looks ill."

"Pestilence…" Came a lilting voice from behind him. This man was blond, blue eyed with a five o'clock shadow even though it was late morning. He was dressed in a flowy white dress shirt and slacks. Ghost saw him looking them over and he tried his damnedest to pull himself together, to not succumb completely to Famine's plan, because who else could this be? "I thought we agreed to no field testing compounds this weekend."

Pestilence scowled at him. "Fuck off, Famine. It wasn't me."

Famine shook his head at him, fond, and smiled a little. "Apologies. I am Famine, they/them. I did not realize Ghost was ill; we could have rescheduled the meeting."

Ghost narrowed his eyes at them, staring hard, trying to see the lie on their face. Open curiosity, sincerity, slight concern…either Famine was a professional actor, or they were telling the truth and had absolutely no clue why Ghost would be thrown off balance just by walking into this room with all of them there.

Ghost tilted his head to the side a little and frowned minutely at them, resisting the need to stare at the yet unintroduced pair in the room. If Famine didn't send Death and War to fuck him senseless, then what the fuck was going on? The timing of it all was too convenient and Ghost didn't believe in coincidences.

Lovino shook their hand. "Nice to meet you." Ghost, on autopilot, did the same, nodding a little in greeting.

Famine looked at him strangely, raising their eyebrows. "Just as verbose as expected, then. Please, relax. This meeting is an overture of sorts. The entire purpose of this weekend is to build new relationships, after all." Ghost stared after them, sure incredulity was in his face, as they and Pestilence went back to their seats, presumably making room so that the other Horsemen wouldn't crowd them. Considerate, but Ghost still didn't look at War and Death.

Lovino leaned lightly into him before stepping away so it didn't look like they were huddling together. War stood, approaching Lovino but Ghost felt his eyes watching him closely, the sensation of his attention bringing too much back to the forefront of Ghost's mind. He struggled to maintain control as War shook his boss' hand and said, "War, he/him. Famine's right; we're here to make a mutually beneficial offer, that's all."

"Good to hear," Lovino said, tone suspicious.

War then moved smoothly to stand in front of him. Ghost stared at his chest, not daring to look above the neckline of the suit that fit over the athletic build of him so well. He clinched his jaw, mind frantically cataloging the black on red of the tie and shirt and jacket. He was trying to ignore the painfully visible marks that his mouth had left on the pale skin of War's neck, something he could see just out of his peripheral vision. He ground his teeth just a little, fought to feel nothing, and lost.

"Ghost?" War questioned quietly, tone too intimate and Matthew couldn't stop himself from looking up into those searching red eyes. There was a subtle sense of wonder on his face, a happy surprise and Matthew knew then that War hadn't been expecting to see him here but was glad for it all the same. War had had no idea who he was when he'd taken him to bed, had been in the same boat Matthew was in. Something in Matthew eased at that realization, at recalling how Gilbert had asked who he was in that astonished tone after fucking him the first time.

No, not Gilbert. This man was War, an unknown entity. Even acknowledging that limitation, that truth, Matthew couldn't stop himself from breathing, "Hello, War."

War flashed a smile at him and stepped back. Matthew hadn't realized how close they were standing until he moved away and his eyes immediately went to his friend. Lovino was openly gaping at him, Famine and Pestilence not far behind him. Famine even venturing to pinch the bridge of their nose. Well, it looked like the cat was out of the bag on this one. Since Famine and Pestilence had likely already guessed he wasn't as monstrous as he seemed, Matthew turned his gaze to the still seated Horseman, who had taken in everyone's actions with calculating eyes. His expression had been knowing when he'd walked into the room. He'd been surprised when Matthew had kissed him back in that club, meaning he had likely been expecting him to be Ghost. He had known this _entire time_ who he was. Hell, he probably set up this meeting with all four of them instead of only Famine, just to watch Matthew squirm. If War didn't deserve his anger, he sure as shit knew where to direct it.

Death smirked at him. "Hello, Ghost."

"Death," Matthew bit back, putting all the ire and disdain he could muster into that one word while keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Death's smirk widened and he stood in a black on black suit that, but for the make, matched Matthew's. He looked damn good in it, too, which just made Matthew angrier for some reason. Death dropped the smirk but not the arrogant charm as he looked at Lovino and shook his hand. "He/him. I take it yer L on his phone?"

Matthew fought the urge to slap his forehead. _Of course_ they'd heard him casually telling his boss to fuck off and affectionately calling him an asshole the morning after. So much for professionalism.

Lovino made a strangled sound in the back of his throat but managed, "Yes."

Death made a considering noise then sat back down, not even attempting to shake Matthew's hand. That was fair enough; Matthew was more likely to punch him than give him a civil handshake. "Shall we start?" Death asked, flippant.

War was standing with his feet apart, right hand on his hip and left hand covering his eyes, displaying carelessly his wedding band. "Death, why are you like this?"

Death grinned at him. "Ye know ye love it, War."

" _This is why_ I'm _the diplomat. Fucking hell. Can't take you two anywhere."_ Famine muttered to themself in French.

"Ghost," Lovino came to his side, smiling between clinched teeth. He continued in Italian as they walked to their side of the table. " _Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did. Please tell me you didn't spend the other night getting fucked stupid by War and Death."_

" _Do you want me to lie to you?'_ Matthew answered quietly, hating the blush coming to his cheeks. He was too much himself right now. Just being around War and Death made him slip the usual iron control he had on his body. The situation wasn't as bad as he had thought, but that didn't make the pair any less dangerous to him on a personal level. It didn't negate the fact that, even with how pissed he was at Death and knowing how War can make him lose himself at a word, he still felt the urge to climb into their laps and offer himself to them. It was a damn good thing that it was only the six of them in the room. If they had outside observers, even as security, Matthew was sure he would be panicked at the fact that he was more than Ghost out in the open, that he could enjoy a night with these two men who now obviously had power over him. God, no _wonder_ Alicia had tried to warn him. His second had probably gotten a look at who he'd left with that night and knew how walking in here would affect him. He really didn't deserve her.

"Hmm." Lovino said then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, " _Which one of them is hung like a horse?"_

Regret. Matthew regretted everything he had done in his life to lead him to this point in time. _Why_ did he let slip that one little detail yesterday? His blush flared, bright and obvious, and he hissed back, " _I hate you."_

"No, you don't." Lovino grinned at him as he settled into seat and reclined a little in it. Matthew stayed standing, settling into his usual position at Lovino's back. Lovino started by saying, "Well, since the ice is broken, let's get right to it. Where do you want to start? The skirmishes between our people or this mysterious offer of yours?"

"We start by clearin' tha air so tha' yer Right Hand doesn't decide ta kill me." Death looked at Matthew and dropped all pretense of cheer. "War an' I don't go anywhere we don't want ta. Famine didn't send us ta ye."

The rest of the room rippled in surprise, but something in Matthew's chest relaxed at him stating it plainly. "I figured."

"How? It crossed yer mind; it's why ye felt sick, yeah?" Death's eyes held him pinned, weighing, demanding, and Matthew found himself answering despite himself.

"They were too surprised, too curious as to what could make _me_ sick." Death smiled at him like he had passed some test, giving him a silent _good boy._ Matthew was torn between basking in the praise and throwing one of his knives at his beautiful face.

"Death, _please_ stop antagonizing our guests." Famine said, sounding like they were barely keeping themself from yelling at him. "Ghost, would you please sit with us? People standing while we're sitting makes Pestilence and I nervous."

Ghost would have refused if not for two things: Pestilence shot Famine a dirty look that clearly said that they didn't have to bring him into it, and Lovino waved him over, ordering him to sit beside him rather than behind him. Matthew obeyed, sitting directly in front of War. Matthew allowed himself one glance at the man who had stripped away his control with one concerned inquiry. War was staring at him with mixed emotions plain on his face, so many that it was hard to read any one of them. _God_ , he was stunning.

The glance had turned into a locked stare that Matthew broke the second he noticed what was happening. Yes, he had to stay far, far away from those two.

Famine started talking and Matthew realized that the entire room had watched the two of them make eyes at each other. "…As informative as it is to watch whatever this is, we do actually have business attend to. Lovino, both issues are connected. Pestilence and I have been deliberately testing the established power barriers of like-minded organizations to see how they would react. We're looking to expand our network of contacts, business partners; one from each region."

"And you chose us," Lovino said neutrally. "Why? We're relatively small. There are more established players in Italy, more powerful. Why come to me instead of one of them?"

Famine smiled at them. "I like how you conduct business. You seem to understand something about how power works that the others did not. You were not complacent or stuck in your ways as some of the older generation, but are surprisingly circumspect and cautious for your age. You do not seek to force influence, but cultivate it. Finally, you are one of the few groups I have found that follows our cardinal rule."

"Which is?"

Pestilence answered, "Free labor. We treat our workers like people, not chattel, from the farmer who tends my fields to our most trusted advisors. We, like everyone else, watched when you came back from America with a blond monster at your back, Lovino. But we might have been the only ones to understand why all hell broke loose in Florence within a year of your return."

Lovino cleared his throat and Matthew was shocked to his core. He had taken out that trafficking ring for no reason other than his own moral code. He thought that the universe had rewarded him for holding that line he would not cross by leading him to Alicia. Now it might be one of the few ways that he had come to protect his best friend. The Horsemen were not to be fucked with and damn near all criminal families knew it. It was why no one laughed at their names, scoffed at their threat. To have them on their side could make Lovino safer than anything Matthew could have done alone. Lovino said, "Most people are abused by something or someone their entire lives. If you offer them respect and a helping hand at the right time, it can create loyalty that could shatter worlds. My Right Hand taught me that."

Lovino touched the table in front of Matthew and he bowed his head in humble acknowledgement of his friend's words. He knew Lovino appreciated him and never took him for granted, but it was nice to know he was fine with showing that to these relative strangers.

"A wise lesson to remember, and one many in our world has yet to grasp," Famine said, eyes flicking between he and Lovino like they were trying to figure out if the rumors of them having a romantic relationship was true. Most people who could have an opinion on the matter in Italy knew it wasn't. Lovino was shameless if discrete in taking his own lovers and Matthew had only ever responded to it with a shake of the head and a comment about security. Most people who didn't think he was sleeping with Alicia were starting to conclude that Ghost was asexual, though the vast majority had no concept of what that word meant. No one dared say it to his face, but he knew he was called a eunuch or sexless robot behind his back.

Lovino narrowed his eyes at the four of them. "What exactly would this partnership entail?"

"An exchange and limited sharing of resources," War said, leaning back in his chair. He was all business now, eyes sharp and small smirk on his lips. "We have few contacts in Italy, no safe harbor in a large chunk of Europe due to the old politics between Families. I don't like dark spots on a map when it comes to my people's safety."

"Few have been willing to deal with me in Italy for…reasons." Pestilence said, wincing. "Reasons that have nothing to do with the quality of my product or my ability as a businessman. I need a foothold to reach the Italian market."

"We don't have an established distribution system," Lovino said cautiously. He knew that the drug lords of Italy did not take kindly to people moving in on their markets or territories. For them to do so would be a war they couldn't afford.

Pestilence shook his head. "What I would need you to do is give me key information on how things are done. I would worry about distribution."

"The problem is not infrastructure," Matthew said quietly. "It's competition. We simply don't have the resources to overthrow the established players. To attempt it would mean a war that only taking over Italy's underworld would let us survive."

"Tha's where Famine and I come in." Death said sitting up and resting his forearms on the table. Matthew made himself look at him for the very real threat that he was as Death said, "Ye know from yer work in gettin' rid of slave rings and buildin' a relationship with yer law enforcement tha' sometimes it's best if organizations impload and collapse rather than are conquered." A thrill went through Matthew at his words. Death was right, but just how much did he know about how they worked? How much did he know about _everyone_?

Lovino swept his eyes over the Horsemen. "You're asking us to take over Italian crime. _No one_ has done that successfully before, and with good reason."

Famine shook their head at them. "No, Lovino. We have had some troubling interactions with other Families and are already planning our retaliation. It would be best if we had someone on the inside, but what we want can be done without your assistance. You can decide if you want to work with us; that is entirely up to you."

Pestilence said, "We respect the work you do, so if you decide against joining us, feel free to consider this a warning. At our core, we are a group built on contained chaos. Too much instability just makes a mess, but if you're in on the cause of it…"

"We can pick up whatever survives." Lovino said, tone and face neutral.

Pestilence grinned at him. "Exactly."

Something clicked into place in Matthew's head. That's how these four people gained control over their vast territories; setting up groups to destabilize, then turned them on each other, cleaning up whatever was left to salvage. They were suggesting they were willing to help his friend do the same in Italy. Lovino was just ambitious enough to consider it, but Matthew's only goal was to make sure his friend stayed alive. "The offer is generous," he said cautiously, voice respectful but also conveying how much he thought it would get them all killed.

"Ye seem wary, Ghost," Death said.

"There's no Fifth Horseman in _Revelations_ ," Matthew said simply.

War and Death smiled at him. Famine nodded, "That is fair. But we have no interest in controlling more territory than we have now. We understand our limits. We only want to make sure there will be someone to fill the vacuum our rage will create in Italy. And it is good to get along with your neighbors, _non_?"

Lovino said, deadpan, "You're being neighborly."

Pestilence apparently found that funny, smiling at them in good humor, "Yes! If you agree to work with us, we would be in relatively frequent contact. The only other thing we ask is that you keep working with us as much secret as you can."

"You are obviously well versed in keeping a secret; not even Death could find your true name, Ghost," Famine said. Matthew resisted the urge to bang his head against the table in frustration. For fuck's sake, he wasn't even sure if Gilbert and Alistair were their real _names_. Sure, considering how familiar they were in using them, it was likely but it wasn't certain. And Matthew had freely handed them his best kept secret.

"My alias serves it purpose then." He maintained very good eye-contact with Famine. He was _not_ going to look at War, Death, or Lovino.

"Yes, yes, Mateo Vargas. Lovino Vargas'…husband?"

Lovino gagged and Matthew couldn't help sending them a slow, cold smile. "Brother."

"Forgive me, but you two look _nothing_ alike." Matthew should have been angry but, honestly? He was amused. Famine had this strange charm that just made people like them and Matthew allowed a small chuckle to escape. Famine gasped, "You laugh! People said you lacked the ability!"

Any light that had made it into his eyes faded and he drawled, low and dangerous, "You'd be surprised what I can do."

Famine shivered visibly and Lovino said in a strangled voice, "Ghost, tone it down."

Matthew leaned back in his seat, looking casually over at Lovino. "Boss." He wasn't sure what he'd been trying accomplish with that little exchange. His eyes traveled without his permission to War and Death, both of whom were watching him carefully. He gave them the same dead gaze he'd given Famine. He couldn't let them have that power over him. He _would_ not.

War saw something in his face and smiled at him. _Fuck_. Who the hell was he kidding? These two had his ticket. He would just have to avoid them as much as possible. Another good reason to not go three years without sex again; it gave whoever broke his fast way too much power over him. It sure as shit didn't help that War and Death had been _wonderful_.

But he shouldn't think about that right now.

Or ever again.

Except maybe when he was in the shower by himself.

Seemed like a good compromise.

"What's the time limit to consider the offer?" Lovino asked, wary.

Famine sighed. "This meeting. My apologies for the short time span, but this evening is the start of our plans. We need to know now."

Matthew and Lovino looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Lovino lifted his right eyebrow minutely. _What do you think?_

Matthew tilted his head to the left then lifted his chin a little and bowed his head. _Risky, but maybe worth it. It's your decision, I'll follow you wherever you go._

Lovino shook his head at him, smiling a little. _I know that, bastard. But what do you actually think?_

Matthew swept his eyes over the four people watching them. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. He said aloud in Italian, " _We can either go with them or they'll go over us._ " That, and knowing who they were targeting and how could help him prepare for the inevitable fallout, so he could plan proactively rather than reactively. He preferred their power field to be stable, but if the Horsemen were going to fuck up the status quo anyway, it was much better to be on their side than on the side-lines and possibly in the crossfire.

Lovino sighed upwards, a short puff of air that made his bangs move. That he would make this gesture in front of them said more than anything his decision, but the direct translation was, _Well, shit, you're right._ Lovino then looked at them all and said, "We agree."

Matthew internally grimaced at that little slip. It said more than anything that they were partners, not leader and subordinate. No matter the truth of it, they did take steps to hide that.

"Great!" Pestilence said, clapping his hands together. "Bring your own liquor or drink water tonight!"

That wasn't alarming at all.

"We need a point of contact in your organization so we can reach you if you're both unavailable," Famine said, smiling.

"Alicia, my second. She's been the one handling the negotiations over the past few days." _While I'd been indisposed, aka getting fucked senseless by two people sitting at the table._

"Ye have a mole." Death said casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

"Who?" Lovino asked in a similar manner.

Death shrugged. "Midlevel enforcer, Rafael. Reports back ta Interpol. Been with ye fer 'bout three years. Doesn't have much on ye, thanks in part ta how damn close ye keep yer cards ta yer chest. He _does_ have a fair bit on yer wee brother, though."

" _Fucking hell. Goddammit, Feli_."

"We'll take care of Rafael. Thank you for the information," Matthew said as neutral as he could. Death smiled at him and Matthew felt something in him quake.

"Do you like your brother, Lovino?" War asked.

Lovino sighed. "Yes. He trusts people too easily sometimes, in part because he doesn't have someone like Ghost as his Right Hand, but he's damn good at his job and loyal to me."

"We have someone in Interpol; he'll doctor the files. Anyone in particular you want arrested in your organization?" War said helpfully, eyes pleased at this turn of events.

Lovino and Matthew looked at each other. This would be a good way of testing just how much the Horsemen could do and there was one pain in their side that they would be happy to have out of the way. "Leonardo Vargas. Third in line for head of the Family." Matthew said. Leo supposedly handled their prostitution branch, but Matthew had good reason to suspect that he didn't care as much about Matthew's rule as he pretended he did. He was scum and needed to be eliminated, but Matthew's hands were tied because of who he was in the organization hierarchy. He was Lovino and Feliciano's first cousin and virtually untouchable to him.

War leered at him and Matthew should have been mad, but he was just increasingly turned on. "Done."

Beyond curious and since War seemed to like him, Matthew asked, "Who do you have in Interpol? Getting a source from there has been…difficult."

War smiled and indulged him. "My brother."

That would do it.

"This is all very…generous. What do you need from us?" Lovino asked.

Pestilence grinned at them. "Enjoy the party tonight and keep your eyes and ears open. You know how alcohol loosens tongues."

Lovino looked at Pestilence for a long moment before sending him a secretive smile. "Will do." He stood and everyone stood with him. "I assume you'll be in touch about more details?"

Famine nodded. "I'll send an encrypted document to you as soon as possible."

They moved to the door, the Horsemen reaching it first. Lovino shook hands with them as he went down the line. "This has been…productive is a word."

Pestilence beamed at his friend. "Enlightening is another."

Matthew was back to being the silent presence at Lovino's back, only nodding to Pestilence and Famine as he shook their hands. The problem was that he was now expected to shake hands with War and Death and he hadn't touched them since…

The last touch he'd given them was a kiss goodbye.

War was first, offering his hand innocently to Matthew. He tried to take it nonchalantly, to not let the rough scrape of his calluses remind him of what it felt like to have those hands on his body, holding him down, grasping his neck. He failed miserably, doing his best to nod at the man, not out of farewell but because he wasn't sure what he would do if he stared up at those eyes.

He tried to take his hand back but War held firm. "Ghost."

War liked looking into his eyes. _Open your eyes, Mattie_. Matthew looked up, met his gaze, and said quietly, "War."

War briefly had a lost expression on his face. _Was I good for you? Of course,_ Liebling. _You were perfect._

Matthew looked down and took his hand away from him, moving on. He had no defenses against War, but he wrapped his anger at Death around himself like armor. He was less enraged than he had been, especially with him providing information about the mole, but Matthew only had anger left to protect himself. He was going to use it.

The anger made him able to look at Death without hesitation, made it easy to glare at the cutting perfection that was this man's face. He tried to keep the handshake professional, but Death pulled him close to him like he did at the club, forced their bodies to collide. He didn't attempt to kiss him, however. This was a wise decision since Matthew was one wrong move from pulling a knife and gutting him. Death probably saw that in his face as he smirked and said, "See ye tonight, Ghost."

 _Like hell he would._ Matthew wasn't quite at the level of hiding in the shrubbery to avoid these two, but he was getting pretty damn close. Matthew's response was to say dryly in Italian, still pressed against Death, " _I'm taking a vow of celibacy."_

As he stepped away a little, Lovino said, " _Fuck_ that _noise. No the fuck you aren't. After four years, you would just kill everyone who annoyed you and_ then _where would we be, huh?_ "

" _It certainly seems a little drastic,"_ Pestilence said in the same language, clearly amused. Matthew pulled back from Death completely, silently cursing himself fluently in every language he knew. He glared at Death before opening the door and walking out, Lovino right behind him, laughing like he'd just heard the funniest thing in his life.

Alicia met him first, eyes scanning him for any emotion but the anger already present on his face. She didn't relax at the sound of Lovino's laughter, just took him in. He nodded to her, trying to convey all was theoretically well, as they walked out of the building. He _really_ hoped that Pestilence hadn't heard the "hung like a horse" comment.

The entire meeting had taken less than thirty minutes, so they were ahead of schedule for the day, had a full hour and a half until their last meeting before they had to start getting ready for the masquerade. Their people piled into cars and headed back to the hotel, Lovino settling back into the mob boss role, if looking a bit too amused. Matthew held on to his fuming anger, which immediately put their security on edge. So little forced a visible emotion out of him that everyone was immediately on red alert. Also, the only person who wanted to be in a car with him and Lovino was Alicia. That was convenient, since they needed to talk.

"Car's clean, sir." Alicia said, hopping into the driver's seat, immediately adjusting the chair so she could drive comfortably. She meant clean of bugs, which was great. He appreciated her paranoia when it came to things like this.

Matthew settled into the back seat, put on his seatbelt, and sighed. "Thank you, A. And thank you for the warning."

"It was the least I could do," she demurred then straightened her back from the slight slouch she had fallen into. "What's the plan?"

Lovino got situated next to him. Sounding like he was having a grand time, he said, "Well, professionally, we just gained some very powerful allies."

"A, when we get back to the hotel, I need all the information he have on an enforcer named Rafael. He works with Feliciano the most."

"Got it, sir." She pulled out onto the street in the middle of their usual caravan of cars, navigation set back to the hotel address. The majority of their staff needed to change.

Matthew's mouth twitched. "It's just us. It's Ghost."

"Got it, boss." She replied, but it was with a teasing lit to the words.

" _Personally_ ," Lovino interrupted their familiar banter, "Our favorite person just gained not one but _two_ suitors. What was that you told me last night? 'Want to court the apocalypse?' You're _way_ ahead of me on that one."

"Fuck off, Lovi."

"Which ones were they?" Alicia asked, curious.

"War and Death," Matthew grumbled.

"Death's a bit of an asshole, buddy."

"And Pestilence is a little unhinged, so you don't get to talk."

"Whoa, what's this about Pestilence?" Alicia asked.

Matthew smirked. "The boss wants to hit that."

"It's not like I _already_ hit that and you're trying to redirect the conversation. War and Death want you again."

Matthew scoffed. "No, they don't."

"Ghost, are you blind? I have no clue what the fuck you did to them, but War is _gone_ on you and Death isn't far behind."

"You're seeing things."

"No, I'm really not. While you were so busy trying not to look at them, they barely took their eyes off of you the entire time. Hell, before we did anything, Death made sure you knew they went with you only because they wanted you. You were just as into them yesterday and what I watched happen in that room tells me you're still interested." Matthew swallowed and looked out the window, watching the residential area melt into a more urban setting. Or as urban as Monaco got; it certainly wasn't New York.

"What happened?" Alicia asked, like she was fearing the answer.

"What happened is that Ghost scared the shit out of me by freezing the second he entered the room then going full Right Hand mode. I swear the temperature in the room dropped when he looked at me. The thing that made him go back to being our friendly neighborhood Ghost? War. War said _one word_ to him and suddenly he was human again. A human who was pissed off at Death and willing to show it."

"Fuck," she said.

"I can't see them again," Matthew said.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" Lovino asked, incredulous.

Matthew balled his hands into fists. " _Because_ War made me lose control at a word, Lovino. _Because_ even with how pissed I am at Death, I still want to touch him. Because they know who I am. Because they called me a name not even _you_ use anymore and I loved it. Because I want them so bad it was hard to concentrate on business. Because at the end of the day, it doesn't actually matter to me what they are or what they do; I want them so much it's hard to see straight. They are a weakness I cannot afford."

The car was silent for a moment before Alicia ventured to say, "Ghost, being romantically interested in someone isn't always a weakness. And, as love interests go, _War_ and _Death_ are so not cannon fodder. They are legitimate, frankly terrifying threats all on their own. In what universe would you call them weak?" When Matthew didn't say anything for a long moment, she continued. "When I first saw you after you came back to us, do you know what I thought you looked like? You were relaxed, yes, but you were also sad, wistful in a way I had never seen from you. In working for you over the past six years, I had _never_ once seen you look sad or lonely. Not once, except for yesterday evening. Do what you will, but I think they are good for you."

"She's right, Ghost." Lovino said, somber. "When you talked about them to me yesterday, in whatever I could pry out of you, you seemed happy but almost longing. I know that this life is demanding but I—Alicia and I want you to be happy. You always do what you can to make sure we are taken care of; don't you think it's time you did something for yourself?" Matthew was staring at them both, speechless. After a moment, Lovino smiled mischievously at him. "Also, as your friend, you are in much need of a steady supply of sex. I want you to have more sex in your life. A three year drought can't be cured overnight."

" _Three years!"_ Alicia all but shouted at him. "What the fuck do you mean, _three years_? You didn't tell me that!"

"Why is that such a big deal to people?" Matthew mumbled, really not getting it. Sure, it was a long time and he'd gotten a little testy by the end, but he'd been mostly okay.

"…Ghost, we never talk about this, but if I go two months without sex, people start bleeding." Alicia said bluntly.

"Honestly, same. Are you sure you're not on the ace spectrum?"

"Yes, dammit. Ask War and Death."

"I think I will."

 _Regret!_ "Oh, God, no. Don't do that, Lovi. Can we _please_ get back to business? Like the fact that no one else but the people in this car are supposed to know we're working with the Horsemen now?"

"Oh, right." Lovino started filling in Alicia on what happened at the meeting. Matthew's head was spinning. Did he want to see them again? Yes, more than he was comfortable with. But should he?

Despite what Famine said, he severely doubted that people who named themselves after the harbingers of the end of the world would get distracted by petty grudges in Italy. No, there was a bigger picture here, he and Lovino probably only pawns in their schemes, which was a little worrying. If he was generous and wanted to extend the metaphor, perhaps they were bishops. The point was they couldn't trust the Horsemen to only do what they would tell them. He would check on Rafael, see if Leo was actually arrested in the coming weeks. Even if everything worked in their favor and the Horsemen upheld their promises, Matthew would carefully maintain his plans and escape routes. Above all, he would watch his ass like a sonovabitch. He would ensure the two other people in this car survived whatever games the Horsemen were playing.

His most immediate concern, however, was the masquerade. If nothing else, it was going to be an interesting night.

A/N: (He's on the ace spectrum. Or at least in the strange nether space between the ace-spectrum and the Kinsey scale. Let's just say he's grey-ace. I mentioned to my non-ace roommate that he hadn't had sex in three years since that's completely reasonable to me and she was utterly horrified.)

(Also, to go back to the chess analogy, both Matthew and Lovino will be more important than bishops on this board, but that has yet to been seen.)

Song for this chapter: "Glory and Gore" by Lorde.


	4. Chapter 3: Masks On, Masks Off

A/N: Putting the songs here in case someone wants to listen to them when they crop up. The main song for this chapter (and the first dance) is "Beneath the Brine" by The Family Crest. The one that immediately follows in the story is "Crazy=Genius" by Panic! at the Disco.

Chapter 3: Masks On, Masks Off

Matthew wasn't hiding from War and Death, per se.

You had to be actively sought by someone in order to be hiding from them, right? No?

Anyway.

"Ghost." Lovino said quietly. His boss was dressed in a tuxedo actually tailored to his body (rather than their usual body armor), their entire entourage forgoing elaborate costuming that some groups had decided to run with. Lovino and Alicia had the most fun in coming up with little variations in their outfits, color coordinating their shirts and designing their masks. Everyone was in tuxes, even the very femme Alicia, but their colors were unusually bright for them…well, everyone except Matthew. He had insisted on his shirt being black, but allowed his mask to have a midnight blue undertone that showed through as he moved rather than the matte black it first appeared to be. Lovino was in copper, the color bringing out his eyes. Alicia was in royal purple, her go-to color whenever she could choose. Ric, their brawny head of security in his mid-thirties, was the only other guard with them, each invitee only allowed one personal guard, and he was in a white shirt and checkered mask. Each mask only covered each of their faces horizontally from just over their brows to the tips of their noses, were made of plaster and secured with black ribbons. No one liked how the masks fucked with their peripheral vision, but they were theoretically supposed to be there for a party. Sure, they were all going to be stone cold sober throughout, but a party nonetheless.

Matthew stepped closer to his side and bent his head to listen. They had spent the past hour mingling. Okay, Lovino mingled; Matthew was a silent presence at his back unless directly addressed. Alicia and Ric were moving through the room, gathering information and keeping their eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Alicia had made sure they knew what the Horsemen were wearing since they didn't seem to be making a grand entrance. Apparently they had gone with three-piece suits, the slender ties the only flash of color on their bodies, otherwise clothed in black. The ties matched their masks. Famine wore black but with gold cracking through the unrelenting darkness like lightning. Pestilence wore green, a small pattern stitched into the items that Alicia hadn't gotten close enough to distinguish. War wore red, only the mask was covered with what looked like fine black lace. Death wore unadorned white, plain in its finality. The latter two were also missing a critical piece of jewelry: their wedding bands.

Matthew had looked at Alicia askance when she mentioned that last detail, not knowing what to make of it. If their relationship wasn't common knowledge, then why did they wear them that night to the club? Were they actually married? They had certainly acted like it. If that was the case, why did they wear them to the meeting with him and Lovino earlier? Had they been _that_ sure that Lovino would agree to work with them? Something to think about.

It hadn't taken Matthew long to spot them after her brief report, if only to pinpoint where both of them were at all times and make sure they didn't accidentally run into them. They had both been on the main floor, Matthew looking out over the space from the second floor balcony that encircled the main area that included the primary bar, a myriad of tables and chairs, and the dance floor. Servers circulated the room with trays of sparkling wine and hors d'oeuvres. Matthew had taken a moment to seek out dark red and silver hair and had to grip the balcony's stone railing to steady himself. They'd looked devastating, War smirking to the couple he was speaking with and Death smiling mockingly to who he was talking to, probably being a dick for the hell of it. He was completely right to want to postpone meeting them, urging Lovino quietly to stay on the balcony as long as they could. His friend wasn't having it, wanting to be where the majority of the people (and the food) were.

Lovino said to him, tone teasing, "Are you really trying to avoid them all night? Famine made it pretty clear they wanted to talk to you."

"They only said that we should meet all the Horsemen tonight, boss," Matthew demurred, quietly reminding Lovino that they were playing a role here. They were _supposed_ to be acting like they were just meeting the four crime lords for the first time. It only made sense for Matthew to act like the concerned second, keeping his boss and friend from meeting some of the most dangerous people in the room, if rumor could be trusted. At least, that was the official excuse he had concocted for if he was called on it.

The real reason stemmed from the fact he had a difficult time holding on to anger if it wasn't deserved. He was generally slow to the emotion unless someone he cared for was threatened and any true ire he had for Death over his subterfuge had faded in the hours since he had seen him. Because that was the only defense he had to him and he had no such thing for War, it was best for his sanity and reputation if he had as much time as possible to prepare for even the briefest of encounters.

Lovino shook his head at him, smiling indulgently. "Right. Anyway, on a completely unrelated subject, you have the night off after the party if you want to make any…appointments. We can debrief in the morning, or even the afternoon, before traveling back home."

Matthew was proud to say he only sounded a little strained as he replied, "Thank you, but I'm sure that won't be necessary." He then looked up and around as Lovino laughed at him, prepared to return to his spot a pace away only see Death himself approaching them, slight curl to his lips. Matthew cursed his friend thoroughly in his head for the deliberate distraction. Death looked _damn fine_ and Matthew should not be here. He summoned any anger for the man he could muster, tried his hardest to make his eyes cold and neutral. He might have succeeded, but it was an effort to maintain looking at the intelligent expression and talented mouth.

Death stopped in front of Lovino, everyone in the immediate area watching as they took in the largely unknown figure. Lovino spoke first, not offering a hand as he greeted, "Death, I presume?"

Death smirked at his friend and nodding his head a little, "Aye. Lovino Vargas? And his Ghost." At his name, Death looked at Matthew, his green eyes and red hair a startling contrast of color against the perfect white of his mask. Matthew knew what that hair felt like between his fingers, knew what it was to have those eyes boring into him as he himself was entered.

Matthew lowered his head in acknowledgement and respect, but it was more to force himself to look away from the other man than to say hello.

"Yes. We thank you for hosting this event and extending us the invitation." Lovino said formally, but there was a wryness to his tone that suggested that there was more going on here.

"It was me pleasure," Death answered, slight emphasis on the last word. Then he stepped more fully in front of Matthew. "Do ye dance, Ghost?"

Matthew stared at him. _What is he doing? What does he gain from this beyond my further humiliation? He knows about Ghost, knows that I don't touch people like this. Why is he pushing this now?_ The ball was hosted in one of Monaco's historic buildings, built of stone and domed over where people had formed a makeshift dancefloor. A string quartet had been playing with a pianist, but they were on break. Modern music that seemed to be an eclectic mix filtered through discrete speakers, all of it acceptable if with a vaguely disturbing undertone of deeds done in the dark. A bit tongue in cheek considering the attendees, but Matthew had found humor in it. Now that he was being asked to dance to it…

"He does," Lovino answered neutrally for him.

Death's mouth formed a mere suggestion of a smile. "Would ye like ta dance, _Ghost_?" Then he did the one thing that guaranteed his acceptance, severely limited his choices. Death held out a hand in invitation and bowed to him. The gesture wasn't obviously mocking and the formality of it drew more attention that he was comfortable with.

Matthew didn't take his eyes off of the ever-watchful gaze of his new dance partner and saw the briefest flash of triumph appear when Matthew took his hand. Death straightened and led him by the hand to the dance area. They were not the only queer pair on the dance floor, but we were the only pair with one of the infamous, mysterious hosts. Everyone noted that Vargas' Ghost (or if they didn't know who he was, word of mouth would change that soon) was to dance with Death. They would watch their every step, strain their ears to hear their every word, dissect their body language for its murmured implications.

Matthew had no experience dancing with someone he'd fucked after the deed was done. The nature of the business and his position meant sleeping with someone in his world could have always meant being outed, with all of his preferences and his true self common knowledge. Only desperation had him dismissing this concern so easily the other night. And you did not lightly endanger civilians by interacting with them too much.

He was an accomplished liar, but he wasn't sure he was up to the task of convincing everyone in the room that his body was not familiar with Ali—with Death's. He wasn't sure if he could convince himself that his body did not crave further understanding, even with the state of affairs being what they were.

The rank disparity between the Horseman and himself made him not hesitate to follow Death's lead. Death knew this like he seemed to know so many things, placing one hand on Matthew's back and the other upraised and in his. The song started, a cello releasing a familiar melody, and they started to move. Then more instruments joined a now frenetic tune and Matthew realized he had no idea what this was.

Posture technically perfect, he whispered, barely moving his lips, "I don't know this song."

He dared a glance to the side, catching Death's smirk. "I do. Just follow me."

A voice started to sing, low and hypnotic. Matthew caught himself staring at his mouth and forcibly looked over the other man's shoulder. This was utterly insane. Why was he doing this?

Death spoke again, low and secretive. Amused. "Fer someone as tense as ye, ye dance very well."

"You knew." He tired of the game too quickly to go without saying something. Time to see if that flaw was fatal.

"I knew what ye were. Yer title, yer face, but not who ye were." The dance got more complicated, Death spinning them, testing Matthew's skills as a dancer. He kept up, grateful now for the classes Lovino had made him take while they were in college.

"Then why?"

"War picked ye out of tha crowd, not me." Matthew hid the flinch from his expression, but couldn't keep his reaction totally from his body and was grateful that Death spun him then. He was pulled back in with more force than expected and collided with him. Apparently, that was a thing for them now. "And I wanted ta."

"What? Unbalance me? Is that why you were in the meeting? To see what I would do?" The last dregs of Matthew's fury were evident in the steps his took as the chorus rose and fell. When the music calmed and he was back securely in Death's embrace, he answered him.

"I wanted ta fuck ye. And we want ta do it again."

Matthew made sure that his body stayed with Death's through this dance. He kept up as his equal, his counterpart as the music swelled and subsided. His mind was in disarray. He wanted to take him up on the offer, for the sheer pleasure of it. He really had gone too long without, as the feeling of Death's hands on him forcibly reminded him of what it felt like to be under him and all that came with that honor. But everything came with strings. Knowingly going to the bed of Death and War would come with some that could strangle him. And would it just be for one more night?

That might not be a good idea for other reasons. He had told them to ruin him and they had done almost too good of a job. Yes, War and Death had fucked him and fucked him well, but they also showed him more respect and caring than any of his previous partners. He had thought it was _normal_ to be kicked out once the immediate afterglow faded and his partner decided he was done for the night. And the breakfast they'd had, with how they had chatted and touched casually, comfortably once they all realized how hungry they were…

It had been nice.

Even considering the fact the couple clearly had some established protocol for picking up someone for an evening, Matthew never once during their time together felt used or unappreciated, something that definitely had been a problem before. The bottom line was, if they raised his standards any more, he might always compare any future bed partners to them and that wasn't feasible.

But did he really want a regular thing with them? Did he want to put himself at the mercy of their beck and call, to be summoned when they wanted sex before going back to Italy and the life he'd made as Ghost? Because there couldn't be overlap. The Family already kept a close eye on him, the outsider even after seven years. If he started being seen as the plaything of War and Death rather than Lovino's creature, things could get ugly fast. But he was getting way ahead of himself, assuming they would want to see him outside of this weekend, which was a big leap to make. _God, how long is this song_?

He settled on saying something as the tempo of the music called for them to be pressed against each other once more. He managed to breathe out, "There is no Fifth Horseman. But there is a Whore and I won't be yours."

To his surprise, Death laughed, smile widening obviously, eyes dancing with mirth. He spun him once more, then pulled them away and back together in a series of steps in time with the music. They circled each other, Death's touch too familiar, too lingering on him, making thought difficult. When their entire bodies were touching once more, Matthew's back was to his front and he was cradled in his arms. He kept his eyes up, trying to keep his focus soft enough to be unseeing but his attention held on a spectator in a black and red mask: War. His crimson eyes were watching them intently and Matthew had the distinct feeling of being the fabled rabbit fascinated by a snake's gaze. Death's hand pressed lightly on his side where he held him securely, fingers finding the love bite he had left on his ribs. Matthew couldn't help the shudder and hated himself for it. The music seemed to pause enough for Death to whisper in his ear, "Whores are easy ta find; you were not."

The tune burst into a climatic, perhaps last revival and they glided into furious motion, Matthew now familiar enough with Death's dance to anticipate what he would do. The movement broke Matthew's stare with War and he was grateful for it. Death's hands, when they landed back on him as they swayed as one, were both on his hips. Matthew easily positioned his hands around the back of his neck, sliding them up the lapels of his jacket to do it. He realized the telling mistake as soon as he made it.

He could have put his hands on Death's shoulders, but his action had placed them closer, barely any space between them. Their eyes held and this didn't feel like a dance anymore; it felt like foreplay. Death slowly, posessively slid his hands over him to rest on his lower back.

This wasn't business, this was personal, and Matthew didn't know how to deal with that. Shaking his head a little, he breathed as Matthew, not as Ghost, "What do you want, Death?"

The song came to a sudden slow, vocals ringing out in an undertone. Death's mouth quirked and he said, "Ye know me name, Ghost, as I know yers. When we're like this," the hands on his back pressed their bodies flush against each other, Matthew's breath catching in his throat, "I want ye ta use it."

Matthew had a millisecond of terror that his knees wouldn't hold as Alistair stepped away, hand running in obvious intention down his left arm. When his hand reached Matthew's, he raised it to his lips. Matthew watched him kiss his hand as the song ended and knew that, whatever game they were playing, he had lost.

"May I cut in?" Came Gilbert's voice as a hand came to rest on his back, his presence by Matthew's side wreaking havoc on his already shot control.

Matthew cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of Alistair's ( _Death_ , he tried to remind himself, _they are Death and War_ ), thinking the couple wanted to dance together. "Yes, of course." He said quietly, eyes averted from either of them. He needed to get back to Lovino—

"Awesome." Drums of the next song started in an upbeat tune that reminded him of the big band era and War pulled him into a modified, casual hold. Matthew, surprised, looked up the small distance into the masked face of the arms dealer, seeing the wide smile on his face. "Come on, Ghost."

Matthew's body reacted to the music before his brain had really caught on. This song was a _complete_ shift in tone, throwing him mentally off balance after Death had so thoroughly exposed him. War didn't seem bothered, moving them swiftly and competently into a swing dance. It was much freer than his dance with Death, unexpected in how…fun it was. It was a struggle not to smile as neither of them spoke through their quick-stepped dance. War didn't throw him around like they did in the movies, but Matthew knew from the strength of him that he could.

War's hands and eyes on him were enough that it was also a struggle to not show just how turned on he was. It was almost an echo of what they had done that night, the pair taking turns with him, Death preparing him for War. He wanted to be angry, wanted to feel like he was taken for granted or used, or anything but raging lust and undeniable enjoyment.

War dipped him back and Matthew went with it, trusting War to hold him even as he raised his knee to his hip to help balance himself. His eyes found Death watching them obviously from the edge of the dance floor as he all but exposed his neck to them both in the middle of crime royalty. _Oh, God, what am I doing, what the_ hell _am I do—_

War pulled him out of the dip in time, holding them together for a moment as their eyes ensnared each other and it took just a tad to long for Matthew to put down his leg. Gil—War's pupils were wide and his face had same dangerous edge that forcibly reminded Matthew of what he'd felt like inside him. Matthew needed this dance to end before he completely forgot himself. He was already fighting his body from showing how affected he was. He felt hunted, _wanted_ and it was damn near too much. He focused on the movements of his body to the music as the song drew to a close, tried not to concentrate on War's body brushing his, his hands in Matthew's.

He only barely didn't kiss War when he pulled them together one last time as the song ended. It was a near thing and War apparently knew that as he raised Matthew's left hand to his lips and kissed it. His red eyes were dark and knowing and Matthew needed to _leave_.

He made his face as blank as he could as War leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Our room at 2?"

Matthew clinched his jaw at the assumption of his availability and willingness, but it was a question at least. Besides, the assumption was correct, so why prevaricate? War seemed to be waiting for something, still holding his hand and in his personal space. Matthew nodded slightly, just tilting his head down a little, and War released him with one last caress of his hand. Matthew didn't look at him or Death as he made as much of a beeline as possible to Lovino. He felt eyes following his every move as he tried to settle into his familiar position at Lovino's back, but he hated it all the same. Too much attention could be dangerous, destructive. He was comfortable fading into the scenery; having the metaphorical spotlight on him made him want to seek cover.

Lovino looked at him, probably would be wiggling his eyebrows at him if he didn't have his mask on. Matthew barely acknowledged the gesture as he turned his mind as best as he could back to business. They had hours before he went to them; they had yet to see the effects of whatever was in the alcoholic drinks. He doubted Pestilence would warn them needlessly. Lovino would mingle, he would follow. They would keep their eyes open for anything strange and Matthew would pretend that he wasn't glancing at the clock more than necessary.

* * *

 _Lovino watched Ghost's dance with Death with everyone else. He watched as his second showed more emotion in five minutes to a room full of underworld leadership than he had shown them in the seven years since Lovino had publicly introduced him to his world. A figure appeared at his side, but he didn't startle. Years of having Ghost sneak up on him had taught him a certain kind of bodily control._

 _It was Pestilence. He was dressed immaculately, his suit accentuating the dangerous musculature roping his legs, but not in a gauche way. Even with his face mostly hidden behind the mask of green, near-invisible stitched designs of belladonna apparent at this close range, he was arresting. He kept those remarkable emerald eyes on the dance as he addressed him in a secretive tone, accent making his Italian smooth and seductive._

" _You should watch your second."_

 _Lovino fought the flush that came naturally to his face at being caught staring. He turned back to the dance floor, seeing his best friend with his back now pressed against Death, eyes staring out into the crowd. Lovino followed his gaze and found War staring back. Death smirked and whispered something in Ghost's ear. Whatever was said did not cause his second's steps to falter as they danced in a flurry of lethal grace. "He can handle himself."_

" _I am sure he can. But you don't know Death and War. I do and you probably want to watch him."_

 _Lovino looked at the Horseman then. "Would they hurt him?"_

" _Not intentionally. They understand and respect no. Everything up to that point…they will take and take from him until there is nothing left to possess."_

" _Did that happen to their last…person?" Lovino asked delicately, not comfortable calling Ghost a conquest and he was far from anyone's toy._

" _They've never taken interest like this. They take interest in_ very _little outside of themselves and business. But they are aptly named, Lovino; we all are. War is unstoppable. Death is immovable. And your second is about to be pressed between them." Lovino tracked the way Death pressed them together, noted the way Ghost watched, fascinated, as he kissed his hand. He saw War approaching from Ghost's blind spot, a small smirk on his lips and an easy power to him that hinted at arrogance born of ability, and realized Pestilence was correct._

" _Why are you telling me this?"_ What do you gain from helping me? What does this warning cost?

 _Pestilence smiled at him and something in Lovino shook at the expression. "Because I like you and we are going to be working together. Think of it as a show of good faith."_

 _It was too much like the offer he had made Ghost all those years ago. Lovino allowed himself a genuine smile. He glanced at his second, seeing that he was already being swept away into an upbeat swing dance with War, the mask helping keep his expression neutral. His eyes were shinning in a way that anyone who knew him beyond his myth (a.k.a. him and Alicia, maybe War and Death) could read the surprised delight in them. "Then thank you for the warning, but let me tell you something about my second and I. We are at our best when pushed. We may bend, adapt, but we will not break."_

 _Lovino looked back to find Pestilence staring at him now, unabashedly taking him in. They were supposed to be hiding that they were working together, but Ghost dancing with not one but two Horsemen had probably put any question of their association to rest. People wouldn't be asking if they knew the Horsemen, but rather the extent of their relationship. Considering how Death and War touched his second in a way no one else would dare, most would assume sex was involved at the very least. Lovino shouldn't fan the flames of that thought by getting too close to Pestilence, but that didn't stop him from continuing after a long moment with them just looking at each other. "If they are unstoppable and immovable, then what are you?"_

 _Pestilence grinned at him. "Irresistible."_

Oh, yes you are _, was all Lovino could think as Pestilence bowed his neck to him and walked back into the crowd. He needed a drink, but didn't dare reach for a glass of champagne as a server walked past with a tray half full of them. The night was still early as Ghost's second dance ended and he made his way back to Lovino's side, managing to both look like he hadn't just been claimed publicly by two of the most dangerous men in the world and like he was about to crawl out of his skin from all the attention on him. Lovino shot him a knowing look and Ghost subtlety rolled his eyes at him before settling at his usual position at his back. They could talk later, but Lovino would keep Pestilence's words in mind. All of them._

* * *

It was around 23:30 when things started to get weird.

Lovino was talking to a young woman in a blue, delicate butterfly mask from Colombia, the daughter of one of the prominent cartel leaders, about the soap opera genre of all things. Matthew had largely tuned the conversation out when Mirabel said, "You're incredibly cute, Lovino. It's too bad you're taken or I might actually take you up on that flirting."

Lovino was visibly thrown and Matthew was a little confused. One, Lovino hated being called cute, especially by a beautiful woman and Mirabel certainly was that. Two, he wasn't taken, had never even hinted at having a partner in the course of their conversation. Three, he hadn't actually been flirting with her beyond his own natural charm that came from talking about something he enjoyed. In fact, he had been subdued all night, his eyes only occasionally seeking Pestilence with interest. For a night that was supposed to be a party and not work, that was damn unusual since Lovino could flirt as easily as breathing in social settings. Nonplussed, Lovino said, "Excuse me?"

"I was told that you two were definitely a thing," she said nodding to Matthew, who was now openly staring at her. "But he _clearly_ has his hands full with that little triangle of his. Bravo, _you_! And I saw you and Pestilence making eyes at each other with your shadow otherwise occupied. I'm not stupid enough to sleep with a Horseman's bitch." She said it all with a pleasant smile, taking a rather large sip of her champagne.

Lovino was damn near gaping at her. As was her bodyguard, so this wasn't normal behavior for the crime princess. "I don't know what you think you know," Lovino said quietly but his tone made the bodyguard step closer. Matthew might need to remove his friend from the situation because his boss had a more volatile temperament than Matthew and it wouldn't do to have him lose it here. "But I am _no one's_ bitch."

Mirabel shrugged and Lovino cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "Who told you that Ghost and I were together?"

She smiled. "We all were briefed on each other before attending tonight, Lovino. No one could confirm anything but he never leaves your side. Well, except when Death himself calls. Or did you send him to fuck them to get an in with the Horsemen? He must be a hell of a lay if you thought _that_ would work."

Lovino went still, turning red from his fury at the question, the implication that he would ever ask anyone, let alone his _Right Hand,_ to do that. But Mirabel didn't know him and was perhaps too intoxicated to realize she had overstepped. She opened her mouth to speak again when her bodyguard, a middle-aged but obviously experienced man touched her arm and said something quietly to her in Spanish. He looked at them with wary eyes and said, "My lady has had too much to drink."

She snapped back at him something cutting in Spanish, something that made him flinch before looking back at them. "It's not like it's a bad strategy, especially since they fell for the…" She looked Matthew up and down before smiling mischievously. "…Bait."

Matthew felt dirty, not because he was ashamed at what he'd done with Death and War, but for how she looked at him like he was a slab of meat that she was considering for purchase. He was used to inspiring fear, respect, not…this. But Matthew didn't get angry. He kept his expression in naturally frigid, saying nothing because nothing could change her mind and he truly didn't give a shit what she thought of him. If she thought him having sex with them was a weakness, then let her and her entire organization underestimate him.

Lovino, however, was damn near apocalyptic and needed an extraction. Matthew touched his shoulder lightly, just to remind him of where they were and what they were doing. His friend was shaking with rage, but managed to bite out, "You don't know what you're talking about and should consider minding your words. Excuse me."

Lovino stalked away after that show of restraint. He didn't curse at her once, so he was actually in control of himself. Matthew followed easily, eyes peeled and ears straining for more signs of trouble. There was a sudden outburst of laughter from somewhere farther in the room, but other conversations seemed to be continuing normally. He then thought back on what he knew of Mirabel de Santos. He didn't know much since her family's business didn't overlap much with Lovino's but he knew she was cunning and ruthless, if a bit young and inexperienced. At 20 she liked to drink and drink heavily, but that was normal at that age. Perhaps she had just had too much…alcohol.

Oh.

Oh, my.

Nearly all the attendees drank some form of alcohol, with the exception of their Muslim colleagues. If however Pestilence altered the drinks could somehow make people lose their internal filters like Mirabel had…

"Sir." Matthew said, getting Lovino's attention as they made their way to the side of the room. Lovino snagged a stuffed mushroom from a passing tray and popped it into his mouth, chewing furiously, eyes still showing how upset he was.

He swallowed and said, "I'm too sober to deal with that bullshit. You know that I would _never_ —"

"Yes. Boss, listen. I don't think it was her fault."

"Are you kidding me? She just disrespected us _both_ and—"

"She was drinking."

"So? She's an adult and can control her words. She should be able to handle her alcohol by now."

"Exactly."

Lovino's expression sharpened as he moved past his outrage to actually think. It only took him a few seconds to make the connection and blanch at the possible implications. "Sobriety sounds good to me."

Matthew only nodded in response.

Lovino leaned in and whispered, "What do you think the effects are? Mirabel didn't even realize what she was saying was off."

Matthew shook his head. "I don't know, but this ball is about to get messy. Not everyone drinks at the rate of a twenty year old, so it might take another hour or so…"

Lovino smiled sharply, the way he did whenever a new scheme formed in his mind. He clapped Matthew on the shoulder and said, "Ghost, I think it's about time we greeted some old acquaintances."

Rival Families were represented here, of course, and had been taking advantage of the free-flowing wine. If they were seen insulting them in front of witnesses or even spilled some sensitive information to them… "Perhaps Marcello?"

Marcello Cartinelli wasn't the youngest of the rival heirs here at twenty five, but he was the most reckless. His parents had spoiled him as a child and, while he was reasonably dangerous sober, he wasn't the center of _public_ scandals for nothing. "I like the way you think, my friend. Let's go say hello."

Marcello was just as entertaining and forthcoming with potential (and obvious) insults as expected. In the span of less than ten minutes, the black haired, handsome-and-knew-it heir had gone from chatting pleasantly if a little drunkenly, to saying something to Lovino that was at once homophobic and a come-on. Lovino was openly bisexual, which got him some sideways glances back in Italy but most people respected him enough to never say anything. Marcello even mentioning it was breaking several social rules for their circles, but that was relatively mild. And considering that Lovino had proof that the Cartinelli heir wasn't exactly zero on the Kinsey Scale, both Matthew and Lovino took the moment as a hilarious inside joke. When Lovino hadn't been phased by the comment, Marcello started actually hitting on him increasingly aggressively, all of his words only covered by a thin veneer of insults. In any other situation, neither he nor Lovino would have let it stand, but they wanted him to dig as deep a hole as possible before acting. Still, Matthew sought Alicia in the crowd, finding her already watching them closely, and nodded her over.

It was only when he reached to touch Lovino's hair that Matthew was suddenly there, Lovino behind him. His friend _hated_ having anyone touch his hair outside of sex, so the touch would have been far more intimate than Cartinelli probably knew. Still, Marcello had turned his honey-colored eyes to him and said, "Ah, Ghost! I see you've moved from being Vargas' enforcer to his whore. Not so sexless after all."

"You are drunk," Matthew said, because this topic had already proved to be a sensitive one for Lovino. It was one thing to get drunkards to incriminate themselves. It was another for his sober boss to lose it with said drunk. He gave Cartinelli's assigned bodyguard a significant look, but the man, Tomas, was just staring at him like he had never seen Matthew before. _Oh, for fuck's sake. You fuck two people and suddenly everyone forgets what you are outside of the bedroom. This is why I don't fuck in Italy. And they don't even know Matthew exists!_ "You are forgetting yourself, Cartinelli."

"No, I don't think I am." Marcello stepped into his personal space and looked up into his face. Matthew had several centimeters on the man and looked down his nose at the crime prince as much as his mask allowed.

"Do not touch me," Matthew said. His mind slipped into the quiet that the potential for violence induced, noticing at the forefront of his mind all the little strategic details he needed to end this man's life in a matter of seconds.

"Tell me, Ghost," Marcello whispered. "How much did you earn by bending over for War and Death? Are you the Horsemen's personal fucktoy? When we acquire the Vargas' flesh industry next month, will you be included in the deal?" And there it was. Cartinelli just gave them all that they needed so that Matthew could do whatever he wanted to this fucker for the insult.

Then Marcello touched him. It was just the light touch of his hand to Matthew's chest, but he was moving before he truly thought about it. He grabbed his wrist and stepped, twisting and turning them until Marcello's arm was being wrenched, his wrist strained, and his throat in Matthew's other hand. It reminded him of what he had done with War, but this hold was only for causing pain and teaching a lesson. The movement had taken two seconds at most and Tomas was still reaching for a weapon when Alicia appeared at his side, knife subtly pressed against his ribs. Matthew nodded at his second and said, very calmly, "You are forgetting who _I_ am, Marcello." He put just a little more pressure on his wrist and cut off the sound from his throat with a warning squeeze. It was easy to crush someone's windpipe if you weren't careful and it seemed Cartinelli knew that. "I am Lovino Vargas' Right Hand. You have disrespected me. You have disrespected my boss. You have disrespected the Family. And you will pay for it."

Matthew released his grip on throat as he forced Marcello off balance and pushed him to the floor, his arms not fast enough to keep from smashing his mask into the stone floor. He ended easily, "Just not right now."

He easily returned to his position at Lovino's back, not daring to look around to see how many had caught the end of the exchange. No, he kept his eyes on the men in front of him. At least Tomas seemed to slump, brow furrowed as he most likely realized what Marcello had done. Matthew wasn't sure he had heard the little slip Cartinelli had made when he was whispering, so they might not realize that key information had just been given to their enemies until sometime later. Matthew wondered if Marcello would remember what he'd said in the morning. The experiment had worked, at least; they knew that whatever Pestilence had done to the alcohol was enough to make people do stupid, stupid things.

Lovino was wearing an expression of amusement as he asked, "He _actually_ touched you?" At Matthew's nod, he laughed and said, "Tomas, be happy your heir is still breathing. No one touches my Right Hand without his express permission. Also, teach him some manners, will you? He's too old to act like a child."

Marcello scraped himself off the floor rather ungracefully and stared at Matthew. He was relatively sure he didn't have a hair out of place while Cartinelli looked…well like he had gotten acquainted with the floor, his plaster mask cracked at the bottom. He would be bruised, but the mask was probably the only reason his nose wasn't bleeding. He looked at him with fear and maybe renewed interest? If Cartinelli was seriously attracted to him now then Matthew didn't think he had the temperament to survive being a boss. If you were a fly to a flame, then eventually you would get burned. If you were a leader _and_ a fly, then it was only a question of how many of your people got burned with you.

There was an edge of hypocrisy to the thought since Matthew was pretty sure he was slated to be dicked down by two of the Horsemen later that night, but he wasn't the boss and he knew his limitations. Marcello did not.

He nodded at Alicia who finally sheathed her knife and melted back into the crowd with a friendly smile on her face. Tomas relaxed and said, tone more respectful that Marcello had been throughout their entire interaction, "Apologies, Mr. Vargas, Ghost."

Lovino made a noise of acknowledgement but not acceptance before turning to head back into the crowd. It took a moment for Matthew to realize that Lovino was doing his best not to start laughing obviously. "Sir?"

"My God, Ghost! I wish I could have gotten a video of that!" He friend replied quietly as they made their way to the bar and asked for bottled water. "And how he _looked_ at you! Don't be surprised if he starts finding excuses to show up to talks with us in person now."

"That's unlikely." Matthew said quietly, making sure no one else was in hearing distance. The bartender handed them those miniature bottles and they cracked them open.

"Nah, the idiot will agonize over wanting to suck you off for a bit before actually seeing if he could do it." Lovino said crassly but in a low tone. No need to have everyone hear what he was like when he was just being himself rather than the boss.

"No, I mean his family will kill him for what he told me."

Lovino looked at him seriously, amusement disappearing. "Ghost, he's the only male heir. They would only kill him if he betrayed the family." Matthew knew this. Lovino had taught him this. "What did he tell you?"

"They plan on taking over Leo's side of things by next month. I don't know _what_ your cousin has done, but something's not right. He's either sloppy enough to let people move into his territory without fucking _telling_ someone in the organization that he needed help, or he's handing it over."

Lovino looked at him, eyes gone cold and hard. "We need to find out which. The former, he'll be in prison soon, anyway. The latter…" _He dies._

Matthew nodded, mind already working to figure out inroads and contacts. Lovino quickly drained his water fishing out a tip for the bartender. Matthew knew a cue when he saw it and did the same as Lovino said, "Well, let's see what else we can learn before it this party goes tits up."

* * *

Things got real messy by 00:45.

The classical musicians packed up around midnight and, if the earlier playlist was tongue in cheek, the current one was definitely suggestive of tongues being in other places. Each song carried a beat that made you want to move to it and want to be against someone while you did it. At first, people had been surprised at the shift in tone, a couple of groups deciding to wisely call it a night. Once a couple of people decided to roll with the change as the lights dimmed, the party turned from any semblance of a formal ball to a really well-dressed club on costume night. Lovino, being Lovino, wanted to watch the drama unfold.

People lost their jackets, loosed their ties, and threw off their heels as the mood shifted to be more casual and sensual in the building. Matthew and Lovino took their jackets and ties off and undid the top button of their shirts to blend in with everyone else; no need to be identified as one of the few sober people in the room. Lovino suggested they roll up their sleeves to the elbow for the aesthetic and Matthew didn't protest. He had learned that it wasn't worth the energy to argue with Lovino over fashion choices as he usually knew best. Matthew noted that Death and War had also removed their jackets to his great distraction. He thought very little was as visually appealing as a fit man in a tailored three piece suit once the jacket was taken off. And they were _fit_.

Other tensions began to rise as well. A couple of incidents had to be broken up as people began speaking their minds. It was really only the bodyguards who were maybe starting to think that something wasn't right, but most _had_ drunk a significant amount of alcohol throughout the night, so they weren't sure what to do. One had dared approach Pestilence and ask about the wine. The Horsemen seemed affronted, like he would never dare do such a thing. Matthew was close enough to hear him say, "Take a sample home to test it if you really want. You'll find nothing out of the ordinary. Here, take it!"

The bodyguard had backed off, apologetic, but Matthew had paled. Because if whatever Pestilence had done to the alcohol was _undetectable_ to normal drug testing, then he was more capable than Matthew first thought. Also, that was scary as hell because he made a habit of over-estimating people to be prepared for the worst.

By the time 00:30 rolled around, Matthew was pretty sure the bodyguards had given up trying to control their charges as at least two couples on the dance floor were openly making out when at least one in the pair was already promised to someone else. Dancing had basically devolved into grinding and there were mostly grown adults on that dance floor. Sure, relatively young adults since he was pretty sure no one middle aged were attending as guests, but adults nonetheless.

He and Lovino hadn't learned any potentially life altering secrets from the other Families, but they did get some leverage to use against them in future negotiations. They were the only Italian contingent that knew to forgo drinks, which matched up to what the Horsemen told them earlier. He didn't think they could get much more out of them, but Lovino was waiting for someone to do something exceptionally embarrassing. He might not have to wait long, but it was about time he informed him about where he would be for most of the night.

"Boss." Lovino looked at him, delight in his eyes as he watched the crime leaders of the future make fools of themselves. They were both sitting at one of the tables, doing a good job ignoring the couple who seemed to be doing more than making out about 10 meters behind them. "I do have a…meeting. Later. At 2:00."

Lovino gave him a shit-eating grin. "You don't say. So…afternoon debrief?"

Matthew couldn't completely fight off the flush that came to his face and was happy for both the mask and the low lighting. "That won't be necessary—"

"You said that about the time off. We'll have a meeting at 13:30. One that will involve wearing clothes." Matthew allowed a small shake of his head and Lovino laughed at him. "Hey, I'm happy for you. You deserve it, Ghost. Do you want to leave now?"

Matthew shot him a dirty look. "I'm not leaving you here."

"I don't need a babysitter. If you need to leave for your booty call, I'm not going to stand in your way." Matthew wanted to run a hand through his hair but didn't because a) he was still only Ghost to nearly everyone in the room and b) the ribbon keeping his mask on was over it. There had been no traditional unmasking at midnight, which Matthew was more than fine with. The fewer people that could recognize him on the street, the better.

He settled for pursing his lips a little. "Please don't call it that."

"Well, that's what it is, isn't it? Unless you've agreed to consider that maybe they could be more than that? Because, where I'm sitting, I _did_ watch them both all but declare you theirs in front of everyone."

"It was one dance each. Hardly a declaration," Matthew murmured, the slow beat of the current song churning through his blood. He wanted to dance, but he couldn't dance to this, not here, not while working.

"It is when none of you danced with anyone else for the rest of the night and you literally put Cartinelli _on the floor_ for just touching you."

"Cartinelli stepped over multiple lines and you know it, Lovi—sir."

When Lovino didn't say anything for a long moment, Matthew looked at him to see his friend staring at him, anger returning to his face. When he saw he had Matthew's attention, he asked, "What else did he say to you, Ghost?"

"Nothing that bears repeating, boss."

"I'm not asking as your boss." Lovino said and oh, that might be a problem. He and Lovino were similar in that people could say whatever they wanted about them, but if they went after the people they cared for heads would roll. As his boss, all he needed to know was the information Matthew had shared earlier. As his best friend…

Matthew sighed. "I'm paraphrasing, but he basically asked how much I'd been paid, called me an unimaginative name, and implied that I would be acquired as part of him taking over Leo's branch."

Lovino had gone very, very still. "What did he call you, Ghost?"

Matthew snorted a little, because it was kind of funny. "I believe it was 'the Horsemen's personal fucktoy.'" He shook his head, small curve in his lips. Honestly, if he _was_ sleeping with all of them at once, that would be pretty impressive. Not that he wanted to, but the sheer _logistics_ to figure that out—

Lovino stood abruptly and started stalking towards the dance floor, where they had last seen Marcello disappear about fifteen minutes prior. Matthew was up and in front of Lovino before he could get very far. His friend was _pissed_ , enraged to the point that he was going to do something about it, and this was so not the place. They had Cartinelli right where they wanted him. There was no need to get him thinking too hard about what he'd said when he'd stepped into Matthew's face earlier and they certainly had the strategic advantage over him and his family if the information checked out. They did _not_ need to mess that up with Lovino kicking his ass in front of everyone.

" _Move_ , Ghost," Lovino demanded.

"No. _Think_ , Lovi. This isn't worth it."

"The _hell_ it isn't. No one speaks to you like that. Fucking _no one._ "

"I know. It's why I made him eat stone, remember?"

"Not enough," Lovino said, trying to move past him. Matthew caught and held him still by the shoulders. Alicia and Ric, who was carrying their discarded clothes, were suddenly there, concerned.

"Is there a problem, boss?" Ric asked, looking back and forth between them. He had never seen them disagree, let alone fight each other over anything, so he had the right of it to be wary. They only had one major disagreement over something for the past nine years and that had almost resulted in Lovino getting killed. They usually talked over everything before it got to the point of a possible problem. This wasn't a fight; it was just his friend letting his temper get the best of him.

"Yes! Get that fucker Cartinelli over here!" Lovino said, voice rising.

"No! Belay that order. Boss, calm—"

"You can't just override my orders like that, Ghost!"

"I can on matters of security _and this is a security issue_. You know I only want to keep you alive. Let me do my job." A little over-exaggerated, sure, but keeping up Leo's branch of the business was a large part of their power base, and anything that could make them lose their advantage could possibly be fatal.

That finally got through to him and Lovino stopped struggling against his hold. He huffed and his bangs would have moved if it wasn't for his mask blocking the air flow. "Fine. Maybe you're right."

 _Maybe?_ Matthew straightened and shook his head. "You're going to be the death of me, Lovi."

Lovino winced. "You know I hate it when you say shit like that."

 _Probably because it's true. And you know I hate it when you do impulsive shit like this._ Matthew would have said that out loud, but they were no longer alone and he tried not to look too independent when they were in mixed company. Most people saw him as a monster kept on a very short leash. If they found out there was virtually no leash at all, they might decide to take their chances trying to kill him more than they already did. So he bowed his head and said, "Apologies, sir."

"You know, I almost believe you when you say that," said Pestilence from behind Lovino, causing his boss to whirl around. He was hopefully one of the few other people in the room who could have understood the conversation with the exception of the rival heirs and their people, but no one else was in ear shot, though they had attracted some visual attention from the sidelined bodyguards. The Horseman smiled at his friend.

"Pestilence! I didn't see you," Lovino said, tone a little too friendly. Matthew exchanged glances with Alicia and even Ric; they all recognized their boss' _I'm trying to get laid_ tone.

"Lovi, was it?" Lovino probably turned red if the sudden widening of Pestilence's smile was anything to go by. "I just wanted to make sure things were alright. You seemed a little worked up."

Lovino stiffened. "It tends to happen if someone insults or disrespects my Right Hand."

"Ghost?" The man looked at him, surprised. "No offense, but insulting you seems damned stupid."

Matthew allowed himself a small smile. "None taken; it's true."

"And you were going to defend his honor, Lovi? Can I call you that?" Matthew was pretty sure the Horseman could call his boss just about anything he wanted as long as he kept talking to him like that. Lovino was a relatively simple man when it came to picking lovers; he saw someone he liked and went after them. If he liked more than just how they looked (i.e. for their mind or personality), he was all but useless when it came to personal conversations with them. He was the consummate professional in business dealings but outside of it…well, only Matthew was more useless than he was, but that wasn't saying much.

"Yes. And of course. No one treats my second with anything less than respect, especially over his choice of bed partners."

Pestilence seemed genuinely startled at that and looked back to Matthew. "Wait, someone mistreated you because you slept with _War_ and _Death_?"

Matthew resisted the urge to shrug. "It's complicated. I handled it."

"Not for what he called you, you didn't," Lovino grumbled at him. He felt Alicia and Ric jolt in surprise, neither aware of what exactly had set Matthew off when Cartinelli had been in front of him or why exactly Lovino was in a rage when they had approached. Sure, Alicia had seen him touch Matthew lightly, but she certainly hadn't heard what he had said.

"It's. Fine. I got what we needed from him."

"Are you talking about the guy you hurt earlier who's been staring at you on and off for the past hour? Because if you want him to live, never tell Death and _especially_ War about that." Pestilence said, tone serious.

"It's none of their concern." Matthew bit out.

Pestilence raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying. Don't say no one told you." He then focused on Lovino again. "I wanted to come over and see how you were doing. You've been enjoying yourselves, right?"

"Mostly. It's been…informative." Lovino said, smiling at Pestilence.

"Perfect. I'll leave you alone then."

The Horseman started to turn to walk away when Lovino blurted, "Would you like to dance?"

"You…want to dance? With me?" He asked, strangely hesitant. Lovino had made it pretty clear that he was interested in him, so Matthew was confused at his befuddlement.

"Erm, yeah. I do. It's fine if you don't, I only—"

"Yes." Lovino beamed at the man and took his hand to lead him towards the others. Matthew watched them go for a moment, greatly amused at this turn of events and happy for his friend before refocusing on business.

He looked at Ric and Alicia. "We're debriefing tomorrow at 13:30. I will be unavailable until then." Alicia grinned at him. "It looks like our fearless leader may be unavailable until then as well."

"Boss," Ric started. "I don't need to know details but…were you with the two Horsemen the other night?"

Matthew clinched jaw but answered, "Yes."

Ric nodded and some tension faded from his posture. "It's none of my business, but you were…off before that. I'm happy for you, sir."

 _Yep,_ definitely _can't go three years without sex again_. If Ric, the good man but pretty traditional head of security, was happy that he had a gay threesome with a married couple because he had been _better_ after, then three years was about two too long for him to go without the touch of another person. "Thank you, Ric. As you can probably guess, my preferences aren't well known."

"That's what happens if you go without for _three years_." Alicia said under her breath, but Matthew and certainly Ric could still hear her.

"Lord have mercy, sir, _really_? That explains so much… Sorry. No offense, sir, but that might not be the case anymore. _Especially_ after what you did to Marcello. That kid will run his mouth just about any way he can for what you did to him."

"Cartinelli isn't my concern. He's said enough. And I don't care that people know I'm gay. No one's ever asked me directly, so I never mentioned it. It was amusing that everyone thought I was asexual, but I'm not going to hide the truth."

Alicia stepped a little closer to him. "Boss, what did he call you?"

"A lot of things, but I'll share what's relevant in the meeting tomorrow. We have our work cut out for us if what he said was correct. It's late, however, and as soon as Lovino is ready to go, you're both to get some sleep. Write down any observations you thought were important before you rest, though. Normal protocol for nights when Lovino goes off with someone, but have the guard bring him weapons so he doesn't walk around after unarmed." Both he and Lovino were currently weaponless, as was negotiated, while Alicia and Ric only wore blades.

"Yes, sir."

"Got it, boss."

"In the meantime, we can only wait for Lovino to figure out if he's sleeping alone tonight or not. Is there anything either of you think I need to know now?"

"No, sir."

"You have at least six people staring at you like they want to eat you alive, boss." Alicia said, flippantly.

Matthew crossed his arms. "Yeah, right, A. Anything _relevant_ that I need to know?" He glanced down at his watch. 01:15. If he wanted to shower and change before seeing War and Death… Gilbert and Alistair, he needed to leave here soon.

"People wanting you is always relevant, Ghost." Alicia said flatly and Matthew cursed himself.

"I understand, but I meant about security. Are there any immediate threats to anyone's safety?"

"No, sir." She replied, subdued in the way she often was when she said something that reminded them both about her past. He knew that it was her ongoing way of working through her trauma, but he didn't like how withdrawn she got when she dwelled on it, so he tried to distract her with an attempt at humor.

"If it helps, I really don't think _six_ people would be looking at _me_ that way." Both Alicia and Ric just stared at him. "What?"

"Ghost," Alicia started. " _Neither_ of us are attracted to men but we can both say you are attractive." Ric blinked in surprise at the information, but took it in stride, nodding.

"Several people took notice when you knocked Cartinelli down a peg, sir, and not out of fear."

"And when you danced. No one who knew of you knew you could dance like that, boss."

"They were probably just surprised," Matthew's eyes strayed to the dance floor, checking on Lovino while giving him as much privacy as he could in a crowded room. He wasn't sure they were moving to the music at all, probably too focused on kissing each other to realize they stopped moving. When one of the Horseman's hands came up to run his fingers through Lovino's hair and Lovino's only response was to kiss him harder, Matthew knew that his friend at least was a sure thing. He looked back at Alicia and Ric. "Looks like the boss is going to have company tonight. We should be leaving soon." He held out his hands for his jacket and tie and Ric obliged him. "Thank you, Ric."

"We need to back up for a second here. Are you telling me you don't think you're attractive?"

"A, it's not like I think I'm repulsive. I do alright."

"Ghost, I know we've talked about this already, but this is just another reason you shouldn't measure the time between bouts of sex with someone else in increments of _years_."

"Our boss comes up for air, finally," Matthew mumbled under his breath as Lovino and Pestilence emerged from the dance floor. Lovino approached them quickly while the Horseman went off in another direction, towards Famine it looked like. Matthew glanced down at his watch. 01:22. Lovino looked flushed, lips swollen and eyes bright. "Welcome back, sir."

"Fuck off, Ghost. We're leaving." Matthew wanted to grin at him but resisted the urge.

"Perfect timing," he said, eyes seeking War and Death. War was walking towards Famine and Pestilence, smile on his face. When he couldn't immediately spot his counterpart, he looked up to the second floor. There was Death, surveying and cataloging everything happening in the room, the mask both hiding the extent of his stunning beauty and emphasizing the dramatic nature of his coloring. War's did the same but in different way.

Death caught his gaze and smiled slowly at him. Lovino said dryly from his side, "Ghost, you're going to see him in less than an hour. Can we go?" _Shit_. Matthew looked away, glancing at War to find red eyes watching him now. "Him, too!"

"Sorry, sir." Matthew turned from them and to the door. There was a short hallway to where the valet was. There was a line, but Pestilence stood at the side, waving at them when they appeared at the door.

Lovino went to him, leaving their sides with, "I'll see you three tomorrow."

"13:30," Matthew said in confirmation. A black Ferrari pulled to the front of the building and Pestilence stepped forward. Lovino shot the Horseman a look that made Matthew fear that his friend's lack of self-control meant they were going to drive off the road somewhere. His friend loved riding in fast cars, especially if they were Italian.

"The boss had no chance did he?" Ric asked, almost to himself.

"None at all," Alicia answered.

Matthew said nothing as they waited for their turn. Lovino stopped eye-fucking Pestilence long enough to give Matthew one last look as he climbed into the car and they sped away. Matthew smiled a little as he handed his ticket stub to the young valet who then took off at a run towards a parking garage of some kind.

"Ghost." Matthew turned his head to find War and Death, but they had changed their clothes slightly, though it couldn't have been more than 10 minutes since they had left the room. Instead of dress shoes, it looked like they were wearing boots under their pants. They each wore worn leather jackets and their masks were missing. They were carrying helmets.

He had a thing for motorcycles.

Matthew locked his now weak knees and said, "War. Death."

Two people in the shadows, presumably the Horsemen's security, ran off towards the rest of the parked cars. "We want to change the time." War said, coming to stand next to him.

Matthew licked his lips. "To when?"

"Now," Death said from his other side. He leaned in to whisper, "I want that ta be tha last time ye use our titles tonight."

"Yes." He couldn't say _yes, sir_ , not here, not in the open, but he did draw the 'S' out, just a little. Alistair grinned at him.

"Do you know how to ride a motorcycle, Ghost?" Gilbert asked, watching them intently.

"Yes, though I haven't ridden in a long time." The sound of bikes revving, one after the other, sounded in the through the air.

"Ride with me? We don't have an extra helmet but you can use mine. He tends to drive like physics are a suggestion and needs it more."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

Gilbert gave his husband a pained look. "I would much prefer you stay that way."

"That sounds good." Matthew said, in response to both of Gilbert's statements. "You don't need the visor?"

He shook his head, "We're not going far or fast. _Right_ , Death?"

"Yeah, sure, but only because ye have a passenger." Matthew let their playful bickering wash over him as he reached up and undid the ties of his mask. He hoped the accessory didn't leave too many red marks on his face. He pulled the thing off and ruffled a hand through his hair. _Finally_.

"Ghost," came his second's voice and he turned and looked back at her. She held out a hair tie in her open palm, both offering the item and a place for Matthew to put the mask.

"Thank you, A." He took the tie, lost the mask, and quickly secured his hair back. "Same instructions I gave you for the boss apply to me. Until tomorrow."

Two motorcycles pulled to a stop, both black BMW sports models. Alistair put his helmet on and walked towards the newer looking one. Gilbert handed Matthew his helmet as the bikes were turned off and dismounted by their team. Gilbert then got on, turned on the bike, and motioned Matthew forward. He slung his leg over and sat down, arms snaking around to hold Gilbert as he settled onto the machine, feeling the power of it. Alistair got settled and Matthew couldn't help saying out loud, "You are so getting laid tonight."

"We knew that, Mattie." Came Alistair's voice through an intercom that Matthew hadn't noticed, startling him. Gilbert rubbed his arms at his flinch but Alistair just laughed into his speaker as they revved the engines and started into the night.


	5. Chapter 4: New Title

A/N: Thank you to the guest who told me this was originally posted in code! If you're looking for the E-rated version, you know where to find it.

Once Alistair's laughter died out, Matthew found himself in an awkward position. They had a solid ten minutes of travel if Gilbert was serious about obeying traffic laws. That meant a good chunk of time where he had an open line of communication to the man he had alternatively been enraged at and lusting after for most of the past 24 hours. He had questions, _so many_ questions, about what was going on, what the actual fuck Pestilence had done to the drinks, and why they had orchestrated the ball in the first place. More immediately pressing and most concerning for him was what exactly Alistair and his husband wanted from him.

Matthew _had_ asked on the dancefloor, of course. Alistair hadn't quite dodged the question with Gilbert's interruption, but he wasn't sure what to make of the whole thing. Alistair had denied that they were expecting him to only be available for sex, had said that he had been hard to find, but that didn't explain what they had been looking for in the first place. And _why_ in the world did they both need to dance with him in front of everyone? They hadn't even danced with each other! They were supposed to be working together professionally, outside of whatever this sex thing was. Did they not realize what those two dances had done to his reputation? It was clear that very few believed he had gone to their bed for no gain but the pleasure alone. Not everyone was as reckless as Cartinelli, but even glimpsing who he was under the surface made people question how much of his myth was mere fabrication.

But what other choice did he have? He could hardly have turned down the offer to dance. Alistair was too knowing in everything he did not to have a reason for that dance beyond getting Matthew to talk to him. Everything about that set-up, from the song to Gilbert being in the exact right spot to both catch Matthew's eye and sweep him into the next dance before he had a chance to collect himself, screamed of planning careful enough to seem coincidental. If Matthew was being perfectly honest with himself, he could admit that Alistair and Gilbert hadn't needed the dances to convince him to come to their bed tonight. They could have just asked, stared at him for a bit, and his resolve would have collapsed like a house of cards. It all seemed like so much effort just to get him in bed and none of it made _sense_.

"Mattie," Alistair asked through the intercom. Matthew flinched again but tried to minimize his physical reaction to not startle Gilbert.

"Yes?"

"Are ye still mad at me fer not sayin' who we were that night?" The tone wasn't quite apologetic but it was…hesitant. Like he didn't know the answer to this one and was unsure of his welcome.

Matthew sighed. "No, Alistair, I'm not. You didn't owe me anything. You still don't. And what were you going to do; slip in between rounds that you two were part of the Four Horsemen? I'm actually surprised you even gave me time to get used to the idea. You could have just let me run into you at the ball and I would have been a wreck. I don't know why you two showed up to the meeting, though. Famine could have told us what we needed."

Alistair was quiet for a moment then said, "I thought it was tha best way ta tell you in relative privacy and surprise Gilbert. I like surprisin' him an' I don't get tha chance ta do so often. And I didn't want ta introduce ye at tha ball when he wouldn't know not ta say yer name."

"…Thank you." At least _that_ checked out and that last thought went both ways; who War and Death were under their titles and masks was more of a secret than Ghost's sexual preferences and name, for sure. "You two really are married then?"

"Aye, workin' on four years noo." Matthew could hear the smile in his voice and it brought a bittersweet one to his own. They had something real, something that would last; something Matthew had long since accepted was forever out of his reach. Matthew hugged Gilbert just a little tighter. "Why do ye ask?"

"You weren't wearing your rings."

"…Right. Well, tha majority of people at tha party didn't know we were married or even together. We work separately and wear our rings, so some think we're married but don't know ta whom. We're pretty careful when we go out as a couple ta not run inta people who know who we are. Harder ta use us against each other if they don't know we're married."

That explains why they hadn't danced together at the party but raised other questions. "You told me. You introduced Gil to me as your husband even though you knew you were going to run into me at the ball at least."

"Tha's different. We never lie about bein' married ta people we take ta bed fer a night an' ye knew how ta keep a secret."

 _For a night_. "Oh," was all Matthew could say to that statement, the confirmation of what this was. That was fine; it was certainly more than he ever expected to get. He would take what he could. Hadn't he thought earlier that it was wiser not to see them beyond this weekend, that them wanting more from him was a fantastical leap to make?

This was fine.

"Wha's wrong?" Alistair asked and Matthew saw him turn his head to look obviously look at him.

"Watch the road!" Matthew said into the microphone, alarmed.

Alistair turned his head back to the street as they came around a turn, the hotel in sight. He asked, tone serious now, "Matthew, wha's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." It wasn't like he was expecting anything different, so Matthew had no reason to feel dejected. No, nothing was wrong. However, with the knowledge that this was indeed the last time they would be together like this, Matthew was going to fuck them like it was his last night on Earth. What he had said in the club wasn't an exaggeration; he really had no idea when he would have an opportunity to get out of Italy after this. He was still feeling only the smallest effects of the other night, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as he expected, the massage and bath doing wonders for his recovery time.

This was fine.

Alistair didn't say anything more as they pulled into the garage of their building and stopped in front of the door. Two people dressed in matching black uniforms that all their security seemed to wear stepped forward. They turned off the bikes and Matthew dismounted, unsure as to protocol here. The cab ride they had shared from the club was a vague memory that was mostly overruled by Matthew's determination to spend most of his time making out with Gilbert and Alistair. They hadn't exactly taken the time to explain security formalities.

Alistair removed his helmet and handed it to the man who came up to him with a smile. Gilbert got off the bike and easily greeted the person who came up to them. "Hey, Chris. Ghost, could you give them the helmet?"

Matthew just removed the headgear and smiled at the guard, noting their up-tilted eyes and dark brown hair for future reference. "Thank you," he said, handing off the helmet. Gilbert immediately took his hand and pulled him towards the door where Alistair was waiting. "In a rush?" Matthew asked, teasing.

Gilbert smirked at him. "You know I'm not the best at being patient. But Scottie's worse."

"I am not," Alistair answered automatically as they went through the automatic doors to call the elevator. He was watching Matthew steadily and Matthew did his best to look innocent, smiling at him and meeting his gaze. That just made Alistair narrow his eyes and step fully in front of him.

Alistair opened his mouth to say something, but the elevator doors opened and Gilbert said, herding them into the space, "Come on. Whatever's happening can wait until we're upstairs."

They all got in and Alistair looked away from Matthew finally to turn to Gilbert, who had released Matthew's hand to crowd his husband up against the wall of the elevator. The doors closed and they got moving, Alistair's hands coming to rest on Gilbert's hips and a smirk on his face, eyes now sparkling in amusement. "Can I help ye?"

Gilbert's answer was to kiss him hard, forcing a surprised sound from Alistair. Matthew was startled and, remembering Alistair's words, sought the usual camera in elevators. There was one in the corner, but it was covered by something. Matthew turned back to watch them as Gilbert pulled away abruptly and said quietly but emphatically, "I _hated_ that. I hate acting like I'm not in love with you and we're not together."

Alistair's gaze softened and he brought up a hand to cup Gilbert's cheek. "I know, love. I'll give ye back yer ring as soon as we get ta tha room."

 _Oh_ , Matthew thought, looking away from them. This felt…private, something he had no business seeing, especially as their temporary diversion. The elevator dinged open at their floor and Matthew only barely kept himself from jumping out of the space. He did stride down the hallway to their door, wanting to give them time alone if they wanted it.

It turns out they didn't since Gilbert and Alistair followed closely behind him. Gilbert smiled wryly at him. "Looks like you're in a rush, too."

Matthew managed a small smile and a shrug, desperately trying to ignore how watching them love each other made him _want_ , damn near ache with longing. It wasn't his place, wasn't the role he had agreed to take by coming with them here. He could be himself with them, as Ghost but also just Mattie. That was enough. It would have to be enough. He wouldn't let anything ruin the opportunity for what it was, _especially_ his ridiculous feelings.

Gilbert was looking at him strangely now, but opened their hotel door and motioned Matthew inside. He tried to grin at him as he walked past. "I'll be right back," he said, losing his shoes and heading straight for the restroom. He hadn't had the chance to wash up like he had been planning to do in his room. He didn't really need a shower since he had taken a thorough one right before dressing for the evening, but he did at the very least want to take the concealer off of his neck. Plus, it would give him a chance to get himself together and give the couple time to exchange rings or something.

He kept in motion, making sure he didn't have time to think as he laid his tie, cufflinks, and jacket between the two sinks and unbuttoned his shirt far enough to reveal his undershirt. Matthew considered taking that off, too, but it decided against it. After thinking for a moment, he also took off his socks; they were always the most awkward thing to get rid of in the heat of the moment. He then grabbed a folded washcloth and ran water over it. He buried his face in the cold cloth, hoping that it would help him concentrate on the here and now.

Matthew was here with Gilbert and Alistair, who knew both sides of him and still invited him to share their bed. Even though it was only for one more night, it was so much more than Matthew ever expected. He should be shaking out of his skin with excitement. But when he pulled the cloth down and off his face and met his own eyes in the mirror, they looked wide and…sad. Matthew's eyes tightened as his jaw clinched in annoyance. He went back to focusing on washing up. Once things got started, he would be more than busy enough to get that helpless, _useless_ look out of his eyes.

He focused on scrubbing the make-up off of his skin and was on his second pass when something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Matthew lowered the cloth and reached out to grab a red toothbrush, still in its package, that seemed to be the same brand as the yellow and blue ones sitting in a cup on the back corner of the counter. Matthew gave a low, humorless laugh and cursed himself for being this predictable, this obvious.

Someone appeared at the still open doorway and Matthew said, staring at the brush in his hand, "Were you that sure I would say yes?"

"We had hoped you would and didn't want to be unprepared," Gilbert said as he came further into the room, barefoot by the sound of his movement. He hugged Matthew from behind, wedding band gleaming in the light, and stared at him in the mirror. Matthew didn't meet his eyes as he relaxed into the embrace and set the toothbrush and washcloth down. He needed to stop thinking. For that to happen, Gilbert needed to touch him more. "Do you not like the color?"

Matthew's mouth twisted. "Red's my favorite color," he said, finally mustering the courage to meet Gilbert's eyes. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth were lower than normal, like he was concerned or confused.

Gilbert kissed his temple and said, "Then all your toothbrushes will be red, okay?"

Matthew startled at that, body tensing because what he just said made absolutely no sense. "What?"

"For when you come to see us? You're of course welcome to bring your own but mine are always blue and Scottie's are yellow or green so—"

"You want to see me again?" Matthew interrupted, needing this one question answered. He turned around so he was looking directly into Gilbert's face. "After tonight, I mean."

Gilbert frowned at him, "Of course. Why are you surprised?"

They stared at each other for a second, Matthew still not quite processing what was happening, until Gilbert turned from him and headed for the door, saying, "Alistair!"

"Wha'? What's wrong?" Matthew followed Gilbert out of the room to see Alistair sitting upright on the couch, the bedroom through open doors to the right. The suite really was quite nice, done in understated cream and milk chocolate, but Matthew was far more concerned with the room's occupants. Alistair looked between him and Gilbert.

Gilbert wasn't yelling, but frustration was clear in his voice as he said, "Why is Mattie under the impression that we don't want him?"

Alistair raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I have no clue. We made our stances pretty clear at tha ball, I thought."

"No," Matthew said quietly, stepping closer to them. "As far I understand, you both want to fuck me for one night. Alistair said that you didn't want a whore but he didn't mention anything beyond that. I'm guessing I was wrong?"

Alistair sighed and ran a hand down his face while Gilbert said, "Yes, you are. I think we need to talk before we do anything."

"…Okay. About what?" Matthew asked, afraid to hope for what they might say.

Alistair said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, "We want ta date ye, Mattie, on an exclusive basis. We want ye ta be our boyfriend."

The words were like a blow to the head, stunning him for a moment.

 _Yes_ , he wanted to say, wanted to fucking shout. He had been trying not to dwell on how hungry for more of them he had been, trying not to think _what if_ : What if he had met them in a different place, or if they had been different people? What if they had looked at him and had been the first ones to say, _yes, we want to keep him_ , to not move easily out of his life? Only Lovino had ever chosen him and that had been for other reasons besides who Matthew was. He had chosen Alicia and the bond they shared was different. No one he had been interested in had ever wanted him romantically, not on any permanent basis, and Matthew wanted to know what that felt like. And for Gilbert and Alistair of all people to be the ones to suggest this…

But things weren't adding up. There were reasons why no one had wanted him. He was twenty-nine years old for heaven's sake. Someone would have shown interest by now if there hadn't been some inherent flaw with him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle the strain of watching these two men lose interest in him.

Then again, if things went to shit, he probably wouldn't live long enough to see that happen.

"Matthew?" Gilbert hedged and Matthew realized he had just been looking blankly at them both and tried to get whatever emotion that was on his face under control. "Any thoughts?"

"Why?" It was the crux of his confusion, his hesitance. He didn't understand why they would ask this of him. Alistair had said that he hadn't been easy to find but…why him?

"Why we want to date you?" Gilbert asked as if he was clarifying a question that didn't make any sense.

"Yes."

"Because we're not insane enough to let you go without at least trying to hold on to you?"

When Matthew just frowned at Gilbert, Alistair said, "Mattie, why are ye convinced that we wouldn't want ta be with ye?"

"Well, I-I've never…" Matthew licked his lips and looked to the side, not sure how to make them understand when they seemed to be speaking a different language.

"What? Been with two people before? Been with anyone in our business?" Alistair asked, clearly just throwing out possibilities. Matthew winced.

"Dated. I've never dated anyone before." Their faces went slack with shock, Gilbert even going so far as to sit down on the sofa opposite Alistair.

"Matthew, _why_ in God's name haven't you?" Gilbert said, sounding like a stiff wind would knock him over.

Matthew stayed standing but leaned casually against the wall, as if what he was about to say meant nothing to him. They probably needed to hear the whole of it, since they were so confused. Maybe they would understand why they shouldn't want him afterwards. "No one's ever wanted me."

He made his voice as flat as possible before continuing, eyes tracing the subtle pattern of the carpet. "Yes, I've been busy, but there were a lot of reasons I went without sex for so long. I actually hate one-night stands and you can guess why. You've also probably guessed from the other night that I don't have a lot of experience. That's because I've only ever been with six people, excluding you two. Exactly one of them ever expressed interest in fucking me again and he made it very clear that was my only use to him."

His mouth twitched into a bitter smile at remembering Nate. He had been twenty-one, insecure about being a virgin, and so relieved to find someone who wanted him that he had let the association continue for far too long. It was never typically abusive; he always stated plainly what he wanted from Matthew and that was available sex. If Matthew didn't want him, he would find someone else without another thought. He had been the first and last person he had topped before Alistair, in part because he had let Matthew try it once before declaring that Matthew was better taking dick than giving it. It had been a blow to his self-esteem, sure, but Matthew genuinely enjoyed bottoming so he hadn't minded too much at the time. Now he wouldn't tolerate being treated like that, would probably kill the guy who tried, but Nate was a life lesson learned.

"So you can understand why I'm confused," Matthew finished, daring to look at them then. Alistair was still shocked, but there was horror edging out the surprise. Gilbert was similarly situated but also…furious.

"Who, Matthew? Who treated you like that?" Gilbert said, voice facially calm, but the expression in his eyes and an undercurrent in his tone betraying his outrage.

Matthew blinked at the questions, at his reaction. "It doesn't matter. That was a long time ago. But do you see why I'm confused? Why I need you to give me actual reasons? Because I'm drawing a blank right now. What could I possibly offer you?"

"You, Matthew," Gilbert said. That didn't explain anything.

"Mattie," Alistair started as he stood, voice gentle. "We knew ye were special before ye tried ta leave that night, knew we wanted ta see ye again, that once wouldn't be enough. And in tha morning, ye were tha most adorable thing I've ever seen. Ye were attractive enough when I only knew ye on paper as Ghost but after meetin' ye…" Alistair shrugged. "We want ye ta be ours."

Gilbert nodded. "I wanted to hold on to you after fucking you, yes. But seeing you at that meeting, watching your reactions and how you worked, made the plans concrete. We don't know each other well yet, but we want to know you, all of you. We want to see you frequently, go out, and have lazy mornings. We want to fuck you and sleep together after. That's dating, having a relationship. We both hate the thought of you being sexually or romantically involved with someone else and are more than willing to stop bringing other people into our bed. That's exclusivity. So, we're asking you to be our boyfriend, significant other, whatever you want to call it. Are those reasons enough?"

Matthew stared at him and couldn't stop himself from breathing, "Yes."

"Yes ta what, Mattie?" Alistair asked, coming closer.

Everything that they had said was sinking in, warming some abandoned, lonely corner in him, and Matthew started to smile. "I'll be your boyfriend."

Both Gilbert and Alistair's faces lit up at the sentence, Alistair grinning as he pressed Matthew against the wall. "And we'll be yers," he said as he leaned down a little and kissed him.

There would be time to work out logistics and details of how exactly they were going to do this later. There would be time for everything else later. Alistair and Gilbert just offered him the world on a platter and he was going to take it.

* * *

After sex and a _much needed_ shower, Gilbert was once more giving him a back massage. Considering that he'd managed to actually ride him to the point of overworking his back and leg muscles, Matthew wasn't going to stop him any time soon. He was determined to not fall asleep immediately either. Matthew breathed in the smell of fresh sheets and relaxed, sighing, "Talk to me."

"About wha', _leannan_?" Alistair asked, sitting beside him with his back to the headboard and playing with his hair.

"Anything. I want to know more about you."

"You need to ask us actual questions, Mattie. We'll ask you, too, since I don't know much about you and refuse to look at the file Scottie has." Gilbert rubbed at a sensitive spot on his lower back and Matthew hissed.

He twisted a little to look up at his redheaded boyfriend. "What's in the file?"

"Nothin' much personal since I couldn't find a damn thing about ye, which is very impressive, by tha way." Alistair assured him, now almost petting his head. Matthew didn't mind; he liked the attention and the touch was pleasant. "Mostly what I could gather from yer work interactions, wha' people thought of you, how ye operated. Stuff like that. Wha's in yer files on tha four of us? I know ye have them."

Matthew hummed. "You don't know?"

The hands on him stilled and Gilbert said, "Mattie…"

"I don't know everything. Those were some of yer most protected electronic files. I saw that ye had them, but not what they held without alertin' ye."

Matthew wiggled impatiently under Gilbert, who was sitting on his heels over Matthew's thighs, and leaned up to lay a light kiss on Alistair's hip before settling down. "Nothing much. What I could confirm about your business partners and dealings, what some of what you all specialized in, where you primarily operated. What I have was difficult to find. I couldn't even confirm anyone's gender except for Gilbert's and that was through chance."

"Tha's good," Alistair said, hands already moving on him again.

Gilbert leaned over to kiss his back and said, "A lot of what we can do relies on no one knowing much of anything about us, Mattie. We can handle ourselves, but it's hard to kill someone you know absolutely nothing about."

Matthew huffed. "If you're looking for an assurance that I won't tell people, you have it. I understand the need for secrecy and I meant it when I said earlier that I don't want you hurt."

"That's not what I meant, Matthew," Gilbert said, biting him a little. "We look out for people's files on us because we are wary of just how much of what we do is discoverable, how it could be traced back to us. It wasn't a comment about you."

"Back up a moment," Alistair said, tensing and brushing Matthew's hair from his face so he could see his eyes. "What do ye mean about secrecy? Did ye want ta keep our relationship a secret?"

Matthew sighed, closed his eyes, and said, "Do I want to? No, of course not. I'm so happy to be with you I can't see straight. But you were right when you told me why you weren't wearing your rings at the party earlier, Alistair. We could be used against each other. Or, more likely, I would be used against you. There's the added factor that I'm still considered an outsider in Italy, barely tolerated and mostly feared as Lovino's Right Hand. But if people ever start to question if my loyalty is to you both or him, I'll be the first one on everyone's hit list. Gil, since you don't know, nearly everyone hates me back home. If given an excuse to kill me, they'll take it."

They were both quiet for a long moment before Gilbert whispered, "Oh, fuck."

Matthew blinked his eyes opened and twisted a little to look at Gilbert. His face was just edging into something that looked like horror. "What? What's wrong?"

He looked to Alistair and saw him midway through running a hand down his face. "Tha dance, Mattie."

"Oh, that." Matthew said, relaxing and laying back down. "I _was_ wondering why you did it…? You didn't need grand gestures to get me back into bed with you, you know."

Gilbert made a noise of frustration but continued putting gentle, steady pressure on his muscles. "No, we didn't."

"We had a lot of reasons fer tha dance, Mattie. We knew ye were gonna avoid us—"

"Tonio told us about the vow of celibacy thing," Gilbert interjected, pinching Matthew's ass lightly and making him giggle.

"…We also knew we had ta find a way ta talk ta ye without us cornering ye an' being suspicious. Tha dances very clearly put ye under our protection, so if anyone fucks wit ye they know their fuckin' wit us. We _hoped_ it would signal that we wanted more than jus' sex from ye. It…was a little premature, but we also wanted ta make sure ye were free fer tha night."

"That's a delicate way to say we're jealous bastards and didn't think we would have been able to watch someone else try to fuck you tonight without doing anything about it."

 _Good Lord. A little premature, he says_. Matthew shook his head. "Any other reason?"

"...Ye looked very nice and we wanted ta dance with ye at least once."

 _Well, they certainly had a list_. "Did anyone make a comment to you afterwards about it?"

They hesitated at the question. Gilbert said, "No."

Alistair replied with, "One drunk started ta, then immediately stopped when he met me eyes. A few tried ta get me ta say what our relationship was or get me ta dance. Why do ye ask, Mattie?"

 _Of course_ they _didn't get snide comments because they are the fucking Horsemen. Ugh._ "Because the general consensus was that either Lovino ordered me into your beds or you paid me to sleep with you. They reacted predictably. It was like just because I had slept with you, nothing else about me mattered."

"…Are you serious?" Gilbert asked, so tense now he was damn near shaking.

"Mattie, is tha' why ye put tha Cartinelli heir on tha floor?" Alistair asked as he shifted a little towards Gilbert.

Matthew vaguely recalled Pestilence's (Tonio's?) warning and dismissed it. It wasn't a big deal, so he shrugged and said, "Partially. He had it coming for what he said and did, honestly, so the Family won't retaliate from it. In fact, we got some good information out of him, so it was worth it."

Gilbert started massaging his shoulders again and Matthew moaned a little from it. _Damn_ that was good. "I wasn't able to watch you do it from across the room, Mattie, but I heard that how you put him in a hold was very well done." He kissed the back of Matthew's neck and he shivered.

"What did he say ta ye, Mattie?" Alistair asked, playing with his hair once more.

"Usual disrespectful shit about Lovi being bi. Typical thing about me being a whore. Called me an interesting name. Suggested he would own me in a month. You know, stupid stuff. What got me to physically hurt him was the fact that the idiot tried to touch me. Hell, once his bodyguard reports back, the Cartinellis will be falling over themselves to make amends. Ooh, right there, Gil."

"He tried to touch you, baby?" Gilbert asked quietly and it wouldn't hurt to tell him this. This was something people would tell their boyfriends, right?

"Yeah. Nothing much, just my chest, but it was beyond disrespectful. Alistair, can you explain?" Matthew asked, groaning a little as Gilbert moved his hands down both sides of his spine.

"Gilly, Matthew's considered somethin' of a bogeyman in Italy. Absolutely _no one_ would dare touch him casually except fer Lovino himself and Matthew's second, sparingly," Alistair explained calmly.

"I see. What did he call you, _Liebling_? You said it was interesting…?"

"Hmm, promise you won't be mad? Lovi was pissed when I told him later."

"We can't control how we'll feel, but we promise not to do anything about it right now," Gilbert answered easily, now gently pressing the knots out of his lower back.

"Fair enough. The direct translation for what he called me is 'the Horsemen's personal fucktoy,' which isn't exactly graceful but whatever. We have him right where we want him."

"If you say so, Mattie," Gilbert said, kissing his back. Matthew heard the sound of him squeezing more hotel lotion into his hands and warming it. "But did we put you in danger by dancing with you publically?"

Gilbert put his hands on his right thigh and slowly began massaging that, too. Matthew answered with a sigh, "Probably not as much as I thought at first. I thought the only purpose was to get me in bed for one more night. I didn't see it as you putting me under your protection, but other Families might have. That would make them hesitate if not throw any plans out of the window. I also, by putting Marcello on the ground, I reminded him and everyone watching both who and what I am, that fucking you doesn't change that about me or the respect I demand. If they need another reminder, I'm more than happy to beat it into them."

"Sounds good ta me, baby boy," Alistair said, still petting him.

"I do have a question, though. If who you are is Lovino Vargas' Right Hand, then what are you?"

"A monster."

He heard Alistair's sharp intake of breath and summoned the effort to look up at him. He was staring down at him, an unreadable intense look in his eyes as he said, "Tha's good, _leannan_. We're monsters, too."

Matthew smiled knowingly up at him and Alistair continued with, "Noo, wha's yer favorite color?"

Matthew grinned and said, teasing, "Not in that file?"

"Hey, I know this one! It's red." Matthew moaned as a spot of tension was worked out of his leg.

Alistair frowned at Gilbert. "How'd ye know tha'?"

"Magic, Scottie."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I told him in the bathroom."

"The magic of Mattie's mouth, Scottie."

"Why are ye like this, Gilly?" Alistair asked, long suffering but affectionate.

"You know you love it."

"What's your favorite colors?" Matthew asked, both wanting to know and to get them back on track.

"Green fer me. Blue fer him." Gilbert shifted to start on his other thigh.

"Wait a second," Matthew said, pulling himself fully back to awareness. "Does this count as a date?"

"Nope," Gilbert said. "We need to take you out somewhere for it to be a date. Or at least plan on doing something besides sex and food when we need it."

"Not tha' there's anythin' wrong with tha' plan, of course," Alistair said, smile evident in his voice.

"Of course. We can figure out the minutia tomorrow or something, but I think we both want to share your first date with you. Our schedules, and I'm sure yours, are a mess, but we'll find time. Would you be alright with that? And seeing us individually when you can?"

Matthew was smiling so much, his cheeks were beginning to hurt. "Sure. Lovi was a little pissed when I told him I hadn't taken a day off in three years—"

"You _what_?"

"—and will probably ship me off to see you both as much as he can."

"…I think there needs ta be a conversation at some point about what ye just said, Mattie, but that can wait. What do ye like ta do in yer spare time?"

Matthew huffed a laugh. "What's that?"

There was a beat of silence when Gilbert said, sounding strained. "We're also going to let that one slide for now, but personally I would like to express concern. What do you like to do? What do you do for fun or that you enjoy?"

"Hmm, well I like things that allow me to multitask. I listen to music or, if something I'm doing isn't complicated, an audiobook. I like to cook, especially breakfast. When I come see you, I'll make pancakes." Gilbert lifted his hands from him and Matthew twisted onto his back to be able to look at both of them. "I don't have a lot of experience with it, but I think I like to cuddle. Can you help me out?" He asked, holding a hand out to Gilbert and reaching up to find Alistair's.

Gilbert smiled at him, shaking his head a little, and took his hand, "Yeah, I think we can."

Alistair scooted down, saying, "Budge up, _leannan_." Matthew sat up as Alistair laid beside him, Gilbert situating himself behind Matthew. He used the hand he was still holding to urge Matthew onto his side, Gilbert spooning him while they both faced and reached for Alistair. He moved towards them and Matthew inched forward a little to rest his head on his chest. Gilbert pushed closer still and Alistair leaned up to meet him in a kiss.

Matthew smiled at the sound, Gilbert's fingers now intertwined with his, and when they pulled away from each other he said, "Enough about me. Tell me about you."

* * *

Thankfully, no phone call woke them this time. They hadn't gotten to sleep until very late the night before, in part because they hadn't gotten back to the hotel room until close to 02:00. Sex that good took a long time and they had talked for as long as Matthew was able to keep his eyes open. Alistair finally said, bemused smile on his lips and voice gentle, "Just sleep, baby. We'll be here in tha mornin'." It had taken maybe seconds after that for Matthew to drift into sleep.

Now he blearily squinted his eyes open and groaned a little as he shifted into motion. He was lying face down and with his leg slung out in front of him, his arms wrapped around a pillow. There was a solid wall of heat to his back, a press of lips to the nape of his neck, and Matthew turned in place to find Alistair against him, looking no more awake than he was. "Good morning," he mumbled and kissed his lips briefly.

"Mornin', Mattie." Alistair hugged him closer and nuzzled his neck a little, apparently in preparation of going back to sleep. It sounded like a good idea to Matthew, but they were missing someone.

"Where's Gil?"

"Mphf, dunno. Sleeps max five hours unless hurt. Left a little while ago."

"Okay," Matthew said, relaxing back into sleep with one last kiss to Alistair's head and… _five hours!_ "What time is it?" He asked, suddenly much more awake.

"Dunno. _Sleep_ , Mattie."

"Hon, I have a meeting at 13:30."

"…Oh. Oh, fuck." Alistair sat up, alert now as he looked for the clock in the bedroom. "It's 11:40."

Matthew relaxed. "I have a little more time, then. Sorry for waking you." He kissed Alistair's shoulder in apology.

Alistair turned and kissed him back. "Tha's okay, Mattie. We have ta talk about things before ye leave an' should eat."

Matthew pouted, just a little, as he said, "So no morning sex?"

Alistair grinned sharply at him, "Well, let's not get hasty." He tackled him lightly to the bed, causing Matthew to release a loud peal of laughter in surprise and delight.

Alistair kissed the smile from his face and the bedroom door opened. Gilbert stuck his head in, smiling, and said, "Good morning, you two."

"Gilly! Come join us. Morning sex was suggested before talkin' an' ye know ye love mornin' sex," Alistair said, grinning at his husband, who seemed to be clothed in a t-shirt at least.

"Yeah, Gil," Matthew said, wicked smile on his lips. "I want to know how much of your dick I can take in my mouth before choking."

Someone who was _not_ Gilbert started coughing, ironically choking on something in the other room. Gilbert looked pained as he said, "We have a guest."

"He-hello!" A voice called from the other room, still not quite working and Matthew felt his face heat. "Was that Ghost? Good morning!"

"Oh, my God," he groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"Good mornin'," Alistair called. "Go away."

"Rude, Alistair. That is no way to talk to a friend." Matthew recognized Famine's voice.

"It is when ye cockblock me," he shot back, begrudgingly amused.

"…Fair. I _wanted_ to debrief last night, but only Gilbert answered the door." _Pestilence must be otherwise occupied_ , Matthew thought with a snicker. _Get it, Lovi!_

"Do you need me to go?" Matthew asked in a whisper. "Because I have no clothes."

"No, Mattie," Alistair whispered back. "If Antonio is not available either, then they can wait on us."

"Ghost," Gilbert said, getting his attention. "Do you need a robe?"

"If they're not staying, no," he answered truthfully.

Gilbert stared at him for a moment before pulling back his head and closing the door. Matthew heard him say, "Come back later."

" _When_ , exactly?"

Matthew said quietly to Alistair, "Lovi and I have to be at the same meeting. Tell them 13:00 or 13:15."

Alistair sighed but rolled out of bed and strode towards the door. He pulled one of the doors open, apparently not giving a damn that he was naked. Matthew hid under the sheet as Alistair said, "13:15. Let yerself out." Matthew peaked and saw Alistair grab Gilbert by the collar, haul him him into the bedroom, and shut the door with a bang.

"Scottie—"

"Our boyfriend just offered ta go down on ye until he choked. If he's still up for it, I am _watching_ this, Gilbert."

"Are they gone?" Matthew asked.

"They better be," Alistair all but growled and Matthew heard a door close. "I'll double check fer ye, baby."

"Thank you!" Alistair walked out of the room and Matthew said, sitting up and looking at Gilbert, "Do you want me to blow you?"

"What kind of—yes, I do."

Matthew glanced at the clock and winced. "It's going to have to be quick." He stood, walked over to where Gilbert was standing, and dropped to his knees on the plush carpet.

"I'll help ye if ye want, Mattie," Alistair said from the doorway, apparently having heard him.

Matthew focused on getting Gilbert's jeans undone but smiled at the other man. "I've never done that before. Yes, please."

"This is it," Gilbert said, watching them with wide, wild eyes. "This is how I die."

Matthew licked his lips, pulled Gilbert's pants down as Alistair settled next to him, and got to work.

* * *

In the end, they _did_ manage to talk a bit and eat breakfast while waiting for one of Matthew's people to bring him clothes and weapons. That had been a bit a security issue with Gilbert and Alistair's people, especially when someone arrived at the same time to drop off Lovino's stuff. They got it sorted out, Alicia ending up being escorted to both Lovino and Matthew by two of the Horsemen's security team. His second had wiggled her eyebrows at him in greeting, to which he had only managed a mumbled _good morning, A._ His voice wasn't completely shot but he _did_ sound a bit scratchy. Gilbert had convinced Matthew to wear one of his shirts while they waited and weren't actively engaged in sex, his eyes following him with every movement. Matthew didn't know why; the thing was far too big on him, barely covering his ass and hanging loose over his shoulders. He'd been wearing it under a robe when Alicia had arrived, probably would have hidden altogether if anyone but his second had been the delivery person, and she'd given the collar a significant look before leaving.

In the meantime, however, they hammered out some basic understanding of how the relationship was going to work. Open lines of communication were a must. They would only sleep with each other and Matthew promised to make an effort to see at least one of them every three weeks. Matthew wanted declare Italy as off limits for dating completely, but he agreed to revisit the topic after seeing how people reacted to the news he had finally slept with someone. They wouldn't share each other's names, Matthew making very clear that the only other person alive who knew Ghost by that name was Lovino. Gilbert wanted to give him extra security but Matthew vetoed that. He couldn't visibly take help from them more than was professional or risk public opinion on him taking a turn for the worse. He _did_ agree to take a panic button once Alistair made one for him, but only after they explained that all the Horsemen carried them to let each other know there was an imminent threat to either themselves or each other. This one would be programmed just to send signals to Gilbert and Alistair and the tracking on it would only start when it was activated by Matthew. In an absolute crisis, it could be swallowed without seriously hurting him, so there's that. They promised that if either of them pressed their button, Matthew would know, too.

Alistair also said that he would send to him an untraceable ("I can't even track this") smart phone, a way for them to communicate personally without worrying about security. Matthew would be able to program it to only ever open to his fingerprints or, in an emergency, a voice command. Turns out that last was a kind of panic button, too, and Alistair looked sheepish as confirmed Matthew's suspicions, but gave the same reason for the other one. When Matthew agreed to take it, Alistair grinned and said it should be waiting at his office by the time he got back to Italy. Matthew glared at him for that comment, but was too happy to be getting a worry-free way to talk to them to really make a fuss about it.

Matthew was dressed in his typical fashion, armed, and ready to go at 13:00, but he lingered. Alistair was dressed now, too, but in jeans and a casual shirt. They weren't going anywhere for a while and could change later if needed. He had the thought to say, "Hey, Gil?"

"Hm?" Gilbert asked, hugging him like he wasn't ready for Matthew to go either.

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if we killed Leo after your brother doctors those files?"

"I'm not sure, depends on what they have on him. I haven't asked him to do anything yet. Want me to use a different target?"

"Can you just hold off for a bit? I need to check out a tip we got from last night to be sure. I'll send the answer over official channels."

Alistair came up behind him and kissed his cheek. "Who's yer source?"

Matthew smiled. "Marcello Cartinelli himself. His Family will do worse than kill him for what he told me." He turned his head to kiss Alistair lightly, before pulling away from both of them with a sigh. "I have to go."

"Text us when you get the phone, okay?" Gilbert said, stepping closer and kissing him one last time.

"We're 'W' an' 'D' in tha contacts," Alistair said, not even allowing Matthew to draw a breath after Gilbert pulled away before kissing him, too.

Matthew walked towards the door with a breathless laugh. "I'll talk to you two later, but I _really_ have to go. Don't you have a meeting with Famine?"

Gilbert winced. "Yeah, we do."

Matthew's phone buzzed and he pulled it out and saw a text from Lovino.

 **L: I don't trust you to leave them so I'm coming to the door with P.**

Matthew frowned and Gilbert asked, "What is it?"

"Lovi didn't trust me to be on time. I'm kinda offended; I've never been late to a meeting before."

Alistair smirked. "He probably didn't trust us ta let ye be on time."

That was plausible.

There was a knock at the door and Gilbert moved past him to answer it. Alistair used the opportunity to sneak in another kiss to his cheek. Fighting a smile, he whispered, "Alistair, I swear to God, if you don't—"

The door opened and Matthew tried to make his face blank but was sure he failed. "Good afternoon!" Pestilence said, cheerful and wanting them to know it. He walked into the room and seemed completely unsurprised to find Matthew still there.

"Ghost." Lovino said from the door, dressed neatly in a suit but eyes way too bright with satisfaction to mean anything but that he'd had a _really good, very messy_ night. He shook his head at him. In Italian, he said, " _They_ wrecked _you, buddy."_

 _"I now have two boyfriends._ " Matthew informed him, brushing both Alistair's and Gilbert's hands in farewell as he walked to the door. He nodded at Pestilence and looked at said boyfriends one last time, allowing his mouth to twitch into a hint of a smile, before walking out the door. _"He did a number on you, too._ "

They were heading down the hall as Lovino answered, " _Yeah, no shit. I may or may not be seeing him again; he has my number. Also,_ seriously? _Your voice is shot, too?"_

Matthew shrugged and said dryly, _"My ass needed a break."_

Lovino tripped over his own feet and started laughing uproariously, bracing himself against the wall. Famine came down the hall and looked at the both strangely. "Good afternoon. Something funny, Lovino?"

He straightened and wiped some tears from his eyes. "Ghost is hilarious."

Famine looked even more confused but only said as they walked towards and past them to Alistair and Gilbert's room, "Safe travels home."

"Thanks," Lovino said, as he continued down.

Matthew started to follow but heard Famine ask in French to themself, " _I do wonder how much of him he was able to take…"_

Matthew glanced back at them, allowed a small smirk, and emphasized the roughness of his voice as he answered in the same language, " _A fair bit_."

Famine seemed to stumble at that, turning to look at him, but Matthew was already turning away, following Lovino towards and into the now waiting elevator. Famine started laughing before the doors closed.

" _What did you say to them?"_ Lovino asked curiously.

" _To mind their own business. A is waiting with a car downstairs. I would have been on time, Lovi."_

 _"I know you think that, but you didn't see War and Death's expressions when you walked out of the room without another word. They would have kept you there as long as possible."_

Matthew sighed. " _I know. We need to talk about my accumulated vacation time."_

* * *

Matthew slouched in his chair, scrolling through the brief report filed by Alicia this morning as she and Ric gave their verbal reports on the ball to Lovino, having picked up chatter and tidbits of information about various attendees and their bodyguards while Matthew shadowed Lovino. Some people treat bodyguards like furniture and talk about all manner of things that they shouldn't in front of them. Good guards are discrete, but they still talk amongst themselves sometimes about their charges. Alicia and Ric took advantage of their position to gain all sorts of information for future blackmail use. They also had gotten a good read of the room when various things happened.

"The guards knew first when things were going to shit, boss," Ric told him.

"What about the others who knew not to drink?" Lovino asked, curious as to who they were.

"There were several groups who stuck only to water like we did, sir. Even if they abstained from alcohol as a rule and stuck to juice or soda, they were at least marginally affected," Alicia said, causing Matthew to look up in surprise. "A list of water-only drinkers is included in my preliminary report."

"They were waiting like we were for something to happen and seemed just as startled when it did," Ric continued.

Matthew clicked through to find Alicia's list and was marginally disturbed to see that it was very short but roughly covered all geographic regions with the exceptions of the Middle East and Russia. Ukrainians, South Africans, Kenyans, Ghanans and Chileans, groups based in Beijing, Mumbai, Tokyo, Bangkok, Melborune, Vancouver, New York, Panama City, and Rio de Janeiro…

They were the only group from the Mediterranean besides Famine and Pestilence. If they were planning on unleashing chaos in all these places, _everywhere_ , and these were the only groups they would help pick up the pieces…

"Ghost." Lovino said, drawing his attention. All three of them were looking at him like he had grown a second head. "You're pale."

They had wanted him to have panic buttons and security.

"Apologies, sir. Please continue."

"They were just about to explain how people reacted to your encounters with Death, War, and Cartinelli," Lovino said slowly, eyes sharp and assessing.

He was dating War and Death.

Oh, God.

Matthew nodded and focused on Ric and Alicia, silently ordering them to continue. Ric cleared his throat and said, "Most were just interested in who a Horseman would dance with, sir. Those who knew your reputation were shocked that you let Death near you, let alone touch you."

"They saw how he touched you and how you reacted. No one thought you were interested in sex, but now…" Alicia sighed. "They'll probably try to manipulate you with it."

Matthew raised his eyebrows at them minutely. "It has never worked in the past. Why do they think it will work now?"

Alicia and Ric exchanged a look and it was the former who said, "War, sir. Death could have just been a one-off, a dance that you couldn't refuse. But the way he all but handed you to War, the looks they exchanged and how you reacted to them…"

"Where that route seemed sealed, sir, now it appears a path untaken."

"Only the younger or foolish set thought the Boss would order you to them or that it made you weak. That thought was nipped in the bud when you held Marcello by the throat for touching you. Most were envious or a little afraid of how you got two Horsemen wrapped around your finger."

Matthew only _just_ resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "They are most certainly not under my influence."

All three of them stared at him. It was Lovino who said, "Ghost, they kissed your hand after a dance like they were in some romance novel. It was like they were _courting_ you, working to please _you_ , in front of everyone."

Matthew wanted to deny it, but, considering what Gilbert and Alistair had said the night before, it was a little too accurate. When he didn't say anything for a long moment, Alicia said, "Boss, they would glare at anyone they noticed were looking at you too long, especially after midnight."

"I still don't understand _why_ , but getting back to the point," Matthew said, trying to steer the conversation towards things that he could control at the moment. He _would_ be talking to them about this jealousy thing, however. Horsemen or not, Matthew wasn't going to change his habits just because they were jealous. Not that they had asked him to do anything differently but carry a couple of panic buttons, but that was a rule whether they liked it or not. "Did you hear anyone say anything about me being unable to do my job because I am with them? Did you hear anyone question my loyalty to Lovino?"

They all flinched at that. "No, sir," Ric rushed to say.

"No, boss," Alicia said, eyes a little unfocused as her mind worked to see the connections he did and why he asked the question.

"Ghost," Lovino said, shaking his head. "You barely left my side the entire night. Anyone who questions your ability as my Right Hand just because you're dating powerful figures is a fool."

"Excuse me?" Alicia said, grin splitting her face. " _Dating,_ boss?"

Matthew sighed again. "Yes, A. I now officially have two partners, significant others, who happen to be the Horsemen War and Death."

Ric looked pained. "No offense, sir, and with all due respect…good luck with that."

"Thanks," Matthew said dryly. "We're not actively hiding it, but it is something that is to be kept as quiet as possible. Lovino and I will be upping our security detail, however, with all in-house people."

"Wait, what?" Lovino said, narrowing his eyes at him.

Matthew looked at him steadily. "Lovi, more people saw you kiss and leave with Pestilence than saw me climb onto the back of War's motorcycle. Whether or not you see him again does not change the fact people will associate you with him now. Being connected to the Horsemen in any way is dangerous and we need to act accordingly."

Lovino pouted at him a little but nodded. "Reasonable."

"Anything else from the party besides the Cartinelli situation?"

"No, sir," Alicia and Ric said. Lovino pursed his lips and shook his head, eyes tightening in remembered anger.

Matthew took a deep breath and said, "What you both need to know and are free to tell others is the Cartinelli disrespected both Lovino and I beyond tolerance. I only took physical action against him when he dared touch me without invitation." Ric hissed in a breath. Alicia's face contorted with renewed anger.

"What does _not_ leave this room, however," he leaned forward a bit, "is that we need all the information we have about the past four months at least of Leo's business dealings and a complete a record as possible of his personal movements from the past year. Then we need to compare that to what we know of the Cartinelli Family. I know we have a file going, but we need to look for any clues hinting at instability and/or consultation with the Cartinellis."

They stared at him and Lovino said, "Marcello crudely told Ghost they were expecting to take over Leo's branch by the end of next month. I need to know _why_ my cousin is about to lose grasp of a vital section of our powerbase, how no one caught this before now, and how to prevent the power transfer."

"Yes, sir," Matthew said, something in him quickening at the assignment, at the hunt he was given. He looked at Ric. "Figure out how we're going to rearrange security. The next month and change would have called for it even without the Horsemen."

"Yes, sir," he said, nodding with a determined edge to his face.

"Good work. Dismissed," Lovino said and Ric immediately stood and left the room.

"A," Matthew started when the door was closed. "We will be shifting through a majority of what we have on Leo and work to fill in the blanks on any information. Additionally, we need to start working on building a professional relationship with the Horsemen. We'll be researching the best places for War's garrison, educating ourselves about possible ins into the drug trade, and shoring up our defenses, electronic and otherwise. No one else can know about this." The short list of the Horsemen's chosen allies was extremely concerning. They were going to need all the preparation in the world to weather the storm he feared was coming. Matthew was a pessimist, always expecting the worst, but it had kept them alive and he saw no reason to change his worldview.

She steeled her spine and hardened her eyes. "Yes, sir."

Lovino said, cracking his neck, "I'll manage normal business operations and maintain appearances that nothing has changed. I'll see what I can get from the other members of my family smart enough to know I'll be the head of the organization. Thanks to you, we ask for favors so little that they will be falling over themselves to get in my good graces."

"Alicia, did Famine send you those files?"

"Yes, Ghost."

His lips curled. "Then let's get to work."

* * *

Hours later, a very tired Matthew stumbled into his office, barely managing to catch himself on a guest chair. He had warned his local security team and his secretary that he was expecting a package and, after scanning it, they had placed it on his desk. He would have gone straight home and to sleep, but he wanted this phone.

He didn't bother to turn on a light as he moved through the familiar space, the streetlamps making it possible to see. His office was done in understated but modern black and chrome. He didn't design it. Lovino paid an interior designer to get his spaces together and Matthew, overwhelmed at the ability to just _choose_ how multiple rooms would look, pointed to a picture of sleek but comfortable office space. The result was a cold but clean room with a solid wooden desk varnished black, a couple of black suede guest chairs in front of it, a matching wooden long table to the side that was for small meetings, complete with regular office chairs, and a miniature kitchenette with coffeemaker. There was a bookshelf, too, but Matthew used it for show-files and a couple of sturdy classics that he had never read. All of his more sensitive information kept in physical copies was stashed in his apartment or a couple of safe houses he had carefully established in the region. Everything else was electronic.

Matthew had very little in the way of knick-knacks on his desk, leaving it bare but for a desktop computer and a cup of pens since the damn things always managed to get away from him when he actually needed one. The box was there, unadorned and plain. Matthew took out a letter opener from his top drawer and carefully pealed open the box.

Inside, situated in Styrofoam, was an ordinary looking phone, not unlike the one Matthew had in his breast pocket. Still, he lifted it from the box, weighing it in his palm. Maybe it was a little heavier than usual?

Shrugging, Matthew turned it on and followed the on-screen prompts that Alistair had warned him about. He made his emergency code the same as his codename for one of his plans of last resort. Then, he was greeted with the words _hello, Ghost_ on screen and presented with a familiar interface.

He went to send a message, putting both W and D as recipients, and typed out:

 **G: Hello, I was looking for my boyfriends and was wondering if you could help me find them?**

Almost immediately, little dots started dancing on screen. Matthew, exhausted and in the privacy of his dark office, grinned.

A/N: Song for the chapter is "Smoke" by Pvris. Reviews are love!


	6. Chapter 5: Adjusting Parameters

A/N: So I'm not actually dead. This is the M version. You know where the E version is. Honestly some of the emotional weight is lost because I rarely do sex for the sake of sex but I would rather not get kicked off the site, thanks.

In the week since the masquerade, Matthew had learned a few of things.

One: people did remember what they did under the influence of what he, Lovino, Alicia, and Ric started referring to as the truth serum, but only if they hadn't drunk enough to lose their memories naturally. As such, that meant that Matthew had ample opportunity to gage the reaction of his world in Italy to news/rumors of what happened in Monaco.

The general consensus was to maintain relations, even "repairing" them if the Families thought that Lovino had been angry about any momentary indiscretions on the part of their heirs at the party. It also meant that the Cartinelli Family seemed to be unaware of Marcello's loose tongue. Sure, they formally apologized, publicly recognizing Lovino as the Vargas heir even before his grandfather had done so as a political but major concession. But they made no other signs of tightening their operations beyond a few extra security guards as babysitters/protectors for Marcello.

No one _said_ anything to Matthew about his lovers. If anything, people gave him wider berth and only looked at him with morbid curiosity at odd moments. Rumors varied, but the narrative was that Matthew had been in some way involved with not one but _two_ Horsemen and managed to walk away, either unscathed or with them wanting more. The people who thought it was a one-time thing cast the most frequent and least subtle glances his way, clearly wondering if there was a way to exploit his newly discovered interest in men. Those who thought the latter stayed the fuck away from him, because the last thing anyone wanted to do was piss off Ghost _and_ War and Death. Oh, people had lost some respect for him because he liked men and/or they assumed (correctly) that he had submitted to them, but no one was stupid enough to say it to his face or in front of anyone they knew reported to him.

(Matthew, of course, had planted spies in every branch of the Vargas Family's operations, as well as those of several other Families. People's true feelings eventually made it back to him, and by extension Lovino, one way or another.)

In any case, there was some talk about how close Matthew and Lovino had reportedly been with the majority of the Horsemen suggested they also had business ties with them. But as time passed and Lovino (and to some extent Matthew) kept up the veneer of normality, that died away and people were more than willing to believe it was just sex. The fact that Matthew had put Marcello on the floor just for touching him lightly supported the story.

Two: Leo could be very careful when he put his mind to it. It took Matthew four days of extremely frustrating searching to find any pattern connecting Leo's business to the Cartinelli family and even that connection was tangential at best.

Every Sunday afternoon, one of the women who worked for Leo met up with the same high ranking member of the Cartinelli's enforcement, a man who was Alicia's equivalent in their hierarchy named Ignacio Valencia. He met with different women in different locations, but why would he look consistently to the Vargas Family to scratch that particular itch? And why every Sunday? It was a stretch but one worth looking into.

In the meantime, Matthew was going over Leo's finances with a fine tooth comb, looking for anything out of place. There was one major problem with this line of investigation: literally all the family's money was laundered through multiple false accounts since all their business was illegal. Sure, they had accountants to keep track of the money to ensure no internal embezzlement was happening, but it wouldn't be hard to miss a few hundred here, a couple thousand there. Leo grew up within the Family; of anyone, he, Lovino and Feliciano would know how to game the system.

He also looked over the actions of the Cartinelli Family of the past year or so, though Alicia was most familiar with the minutia of the files on other Families. They, with Lovino and Ric, had spent one long afternoon collectively examining and talking through any change in the organization's behavior. The result of it was that they had a collection of small details that added up to them preparing to expand their operations into Vargas territory, but none of it was enough to take the accusation against Leo to Lovino's grandfather and current head of the Family, Romulus "Roma" Vargas.

(Matthew despised the man for how he had pit his grandsons against each other in competitions that always disadvantaged Lovino. He didn't know why the old asshole hated his best friend so much and neither did Lovino, but he did and he was the only one who openly voiced his dislike of Matthew having such a position within the organization. The fact that he had yet to acknowledge Lovino as heir to the Family was insulting at this point as he had the most stability in expanding his power base. If they were going to accuse his second favorite grandson of betraying the Family, they would need as airtight a case as possible.)

With few other options, Matthew had put one of his best tails on Ignacio, just to observe for the first week; no need to alert either Leo or the Cartinellis that they were on to them.

Three: If organizations didn't have a spine of titanium, the Horsemen would walk all over them.

Yes, they kept up their side of the deal, providing access to files they had on other Families, highlighting particular pressure points of which only some were new information to Matthew and Lovino. In return, Matthew and Alicia identified a short list of possible bases for War's people within a week of being provided the specifications. Additionally, they began making subtle inquiries into the ins and outs of the drug trade, though through intermediaries that were most associated with rival Families; no need to draw attention to Lovino.

The problem was they were extremely exacting in their requests for information and the timelines they had set. Matthew understood and respected being deliberate in your planning and having attention to detail, but they were acting like they didn't have regular jobs to do. Alicia ended up being the primary contact point for the Horsemen's staff, but it had gotten to the point that Matthew had to physically pick up the phone to explain in no uncertain terms that their expectations were ridiculous and needed to be adjusted. The partnership seemed like it was going to be profitable for both of them, but not if they didn't ground their plans in reality.

Perhaps it had been a test, because the person Matthew had been speaking to seemed surprised at the pushback, but still pivoted to an alternate timeline with relative ease. It was clear that, without them putting their collective foot down, the Vargas Family had the potential to become just another offshoot of the Horsemen's operations and that just wasn't on.

Research had shown that the Horsemen's partners in other parts of the world had a general skew towards a rising generation of crime bosses. It seemed like the Horsemen were separating their partners from their puppets.

Four: Matthew…liked being in a relationship. He liked it a lot.

He messaged both of Gilbert and Alistair at least once a day, either separately or together. It was surprisingly easy for him to keep work and pleasure internally separate, referring to them by their title internally for anything business related. It was a false separation and he knew it, but it worked well enough for the moment.

The process of getting to know them was engrossing. It fascinated him to see the layers of who Gilbert and Alistair were emerge from what he had gleaned from them those two days. More than once he had gotten a message from one of them and had to concentrate on not bursting out laughing around people who would find that extremely out of character. Lovino had commented in passing that he was alarming people by looking vaguely pleased now and again, but he knew it more than a light tease; people had noticed that he was in a better mood. At least, the temper that he had been barely keeping in check had drastically cooled.

In any case, after the comment Matthew stopped checking his special phone in front of people who weren't Lovino and Alicia. Gilbert and Alistair understood that he couldn't always talk just as Matthew expected them to go silent sometimes, but they made up for it by leaving fun little messages behind, sometimes just to him.

For all that Alistair worked with computers, Gilbert was the one to send hilarious gifs and memes, introducing Matthew to a world of confusing but entertaining internet culture. It took Matthew only the week to figure out how to properly respond to these and was gratified by Gilbert's apparent joy at him playing along. He was a huge dork underneath the intimidating exterior and day job and Matthew found it painfully endearing.

Alistair preferred to avoid internet rabbit holes since he spent so much of his time staring at a screen anyway, but he loved music. He was happy to introduce Matthew to new artists from a variety of genres, giving him something other than the same music he had been listening to for the past 3 years. The music, in the background when he was working or cooking, filled the silences he had grown to expect and tolerate, but not enjoy.

By the end of the first week, Matthew realized that he had become friends with his boyfriends. Yeah, that was kind of a prerequisite for any successful romantic relationship, but the realization left him with a warm fuzzy feeling. He loved that he could say that Gilbert was a huge dork and Alistair liked some fucking weird music. He reveled in the fact they both lamented his lack of understanding pop culture references and were openly plotting ways to get him to have more fun.

He was happy to know not just what each of them did, but was starting to understand which parts of their jobs they enjoyed the most. Gilbert was an arms dealer who could fight and strategize his way out of any situation, yes, but his passion was for designing and building weapons. Alistair oversaw a large business and information apparatus, but he preferred spending his time coding viruses and figuring out how to crack a cybersecurity system like it was a puzzle game. Alistair enjoyed traditional Scottish food and Gilbert, for all that military training conditioned his digestive system for awful food, actually couldn't stomach it.

They had taken the time to understand Matthew's interests outside of work, as meager a list as that was. Gilbert bought the book he described as his favorite and began reading it the next day. Alistair found out he had a reluctant sweet tooth and sent a small box of cupcakes to his office the next day (he had protested the temptation…but ate them anyway). Little things like that.

There was one major drawback to the fact that he was with them…or rather had been _with_ them.

Matthew was horny. Incredibly, distractingly horny.

It was like having sex with them had poked a hornets' nest of hormones that were now flying around, absolutely enraged. He did his best to try to not let it affect his behavior because he was a grown man, dammit. The truth of it was that, after only that short time apart, he had wanted little more than to ride at least one of his boyfriends into the sunset.

Matthew hadn't told Gilbert or Alistair this, but Lovino knew since Matthew told him in an off moment. His best friend found this fact absolutely hilarious.

("Congrats, buddy. You've been dick-notized."

"What is—"

"Hypnotized by their dicks. They've got you ready to do just about anything after two nights!"

"…I hate you. Why are we even friends?"

"I'm the light of your life. Welcome back to the realm of sex-havers, Ghost. You now get to suffer with the rest of us.")

He had reluctantly but necessarily made more time to get himself off since his quick, impersonal orgasms in hurried showers left him more irritated than satisfied. Taking the few extra minutes to craft an actual fantasy involving his boyfriends rather than the faceless lovers that had done well enough for the past few years went a long way to helping with this problem, while creating a whole new one.

He, uh. Matthew was getting a little uncomfortable with the level of depravity his mind delved in to when he let it off its leash. The ultimate destination of these thoughts were the kinds of things that he would never want to bring up to anyone, ever. It was like letting himself give into one set of interests with Gilbert and Alistair opened up a whole new realm of possibilities that his mind was running with. He had never seriously thought of being with two men at once before that first night! And now…

Now he had to worry about making sure these thoughts never saw the light of day.

Still, being with Alistair and Gilbert was amazing and, even after a week, Matthew wouldn't trade what he had with them for the whole world.

* * *

It had taken only nine days for Matthew to reach a breaking point.

"We can't keep referring to them like this," Matthew said, feeling foolish every time he said their titles out loud here, away from the almost dream like memories he had of Monaco. That, and it never stopped being surreal when he thought to himself, _I'm dating War and Death_. It was worse when Lovino said it.

"Agreed," Alicia said, a glint in her eye and visible dimple on her right cheek that all but told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Well what do you suggest?" Lovino asked, similarly looking amused. "Those are their names."

No, no they weren't, but Alicia didn't know them and Lovino only knew because Matthew had told him before he realized it was going to be a big secret.

"I would rather not say the titles of some of the most notorious crime lords in the world on a regular basis, particularly when you never know who could be listening in an off moment," Matthew said carefully, not wanting them to push on his motivations for doing this outside of the purely practical.

"Fair enough. What do you have in mind?"

...Matthew hadn't thought that far. "I'm open to suggestions."

"What do you think, Ghost? You're the one who knows them the best out of us."

"I don't want to pick a name that is associated with either of them in any way," he said, thinking that the entire point of this exercise was to not only decrease his discomfort in every day conversation but to also protect their identities. Ghost was an internationally wanted criminal like they were, but the Horsemen were on a different metric all together.

"Okay, that still has me looking at you. You would know the best what isn't associated with them."

Fine. That was fair. "If that's the case then you both can think through for Pestilence and Famine since you're working with them, A, you may or may not be still seeing him, Boss." The _boss_ was sarcastic but Lovino didn't bat an eye at it.

Matthew stopped and thought about Gilbert and Alistair and what he could stand to call them that wouldn't feel too alien internally but had no actual connection to them. Gilbert was...a lot. He was dorky and fun and so fucking dangerous. He had a lot of weapons and...oh. Okay, he was Canadian-Matthew, not Gilbert, obviously-and since Gilbert had a mercenary...

"Wade." He murmured below his breath only to immediately discard it. No, that felt like a little too much, even to him. What was a name, a good strong name for what Gilbert was, a name that was (if he was being completely honest) more fitting to his boyfriend's personality and physique? What if he wasn't a Horseman but a god? No, no, too on the nose. An emperor, and one less known?

"Max." He said this with more confidence, let it ring in the air and tested its durability. Max. "For War."

Neither of them questioned him on it and Matthew turned his mind to his ginger lover. Alistair was just as complex as Gilbert, but in such a different way. He felt almost…aloof, separate from it all and vaguely amused in a dignified manner. He was Scottish. How had Matthew known that again?

"James for Death." It seemed more formal than Jim or Jamie.

"Alex for Famine," Alicia replied, contemplative look on her face. "It's gender neutral."

Matthew and Alicia turned as one to look at Lovino expectantly, and Matthew was surprised to find his friend blushing. They both waited, patient as their line of work demanded they be, and Lovino eventually cleared his throat and said, "Gabriel, Gabe for Pestilence."

Matthew took it in stride but Alicia's eyebrows raised slowly. "Like the archangel, sir?"

Lovino turned tomato red and tried to throw them out of his office until Matthew reminded him of the fact they were only halfway through a meeting.

* * *

Matthew appreciated uneventful routine, changed only by his own intention, for his own ends. He didn't rely on it, but it was comforting, even for someone like him, to have things happen as expected. Too much excitement often got people killed, after all.

One such predictable thing was the stupidity of human beings in general, and the arrogance of men in particular.

Ignacio kept up his routine, meeting with Rosita, a 19-but-looked-disturbingly-younger escort that had been in Leo's corps for a little over a year who was using a significant portion of her earnings to support her ailing parents and younger sister. Alicia had checked in on her on more than one occasion, a habit that she picked up with the younger prostitutes with particularly tragic stories, and reported that she had a sour disposition but loved her family. _A survivor,_ she had said, and a shrewd one at that. Intelligent, reasonable…and with no fondness for Leo.

It only made sense for Matthew to have her brought to them the following night.

He arranged the meeting at one of the more upscale hotels in the neighborhood of Lovino's main headquarters, Matthew's people in Leo's branch making sure that his request for a woman was both anonymous and well-aimed. A knock at the hotel door at the appointed time had Alicia peering through the peephole and opening the door, staying out of sight so as to not alarm their guest. Rosita had only taken two steps into the room when she spied Matthew and froze, eyes widening in terrified recognition.

Matthew didn't bother trying to smile, knowing that the show of emotion would likely alarm her more. "Please, come in, Rosita," he tried, voice respectful and even. He was a monster; didn't mean he had to be rude.

She jumped and turned around almost frantically when Alicia closed the door behind her. His second didn't quite smile at her, but something about Alicia made Rosita relax just a fraction, allowed her to breathe.

She took a deep breath but then composed her face and turned back to him. "Has there been a problem, sir?"

Smart, she was smart. "Yes and one I think you can help solve." The answer clearly troubled her under her graceful mask, the whites of her mahogany eyes showing just a little more.

Alicia added, coming around her, "You will of course be granted protection until the matter is resolved if you cooperate, as well as a small gift of appreciation." This is why Matthew had asked her to come with him: assurances from him would be contrary to the persona he had constructed and people often found comfort in a woman's presence, no matter how dangerous that woman was. He wanted her willing cooperation, not false assurances that would get her out of the room faster. In situations like this, the comfort of the potential accomplice was key.

Rosita's eyes narrowed at that and then glanced back to him. Matthew suppressed a satisfied smile as she seemed to settle into herself. "How may I be of service?"

By the time she left to meet her other night's appointments, 2000 euros richer, Matthew knew that not only was their tip that Leo was passing information to the Cartinellis correct, but that he was passing it to Marcello exclusively. Apparently the wayward heir was trying to get himself back in his parent's good graces and prove himself to the rest of the organization as more than a spoiled, lecherous drunkard by pulling off a massive power play.

And he had almost succeeded. Matthew was still searching for a more conclusive paper trail, growing more concerned with every passing day. Marcello had said it would be done in a month. If that was true, they were fast running out of time.

* * *

Lovino stared at Ric, utterly frozen. "You're serious.

"Yes, sir."

"How bad is it?"

"Uncertain at the moment, but he was alive when they took him to the hospital."

Matthew hadn't moved a muscle, staring at Ric with what passed as his "in shock" expression. This was…inconvenient? Too convenient?

An interesting development at least. If one could call five car pile-up a development.

It was a good thing that Matthew wasn't expected to say anything because his mind was racing. He didn't know the exact circumstances, but he could imagine the narrative that would emerge. Marcello had gotten picked up for the Italian version of DUIs multiple times before, though not recently. His parents had assigned extra security to him, a fact that he could very well have resented. The car accident was an unfortunate but inevitable outcome for an irresponsible heir who had wanted to escape for a while.

But Matthew and Lovino knew that Marcello had the perfect motivation for cleaning up his act and maintaining a low profile.

Lovino stared at Ric before flicking his eyes around the room, looking at everyone but Matthew. He satisfied himself with something and said, "We need to evaluate how this changes things. Thank you, Ric. Everyone but Ghost, out."

They went, Ric the only one bold enough to throw Matthew a curious look. He didn't return it, gazing into the middle distance as he started thinking through what might happen next. Considering Monaco, suspicion might fall on them, but they were far from the only ones with an ax to grind when it came to Marcello. Factor in the unpredictability of grieving parents…they would need to add more security and…this could go wrong in so many ways…

Lovino was looking at him steadily. At length, he asked, "Did you tell them?"

Matthew's racing thoughts stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you tell James and Max about what Marcello called you that night?"

Matthew stared at him, seeing where his thought process was going and finding it ridiculous. "What does that matter?"

His leaned back in his desk chair and rolled his eyes upward, letting loose a puff of air that felt long suffering. "Ghost, don't you remember what Gabe said? They did this. They damn near killed him because of what he said to you."

"Like they would have time for that. And they weren't even upset about anything that he said. Max..." Matthew trailed off, remembering Antonio's words and looked back at that post-coital conversation once more. Gilbert had been massaging him, his voice even, as he and Alistair asked him about what happened. The only time his voice got really quiet wasn't when Matthew explained what Marcello had said but rather...

 _He tried to touch you, baby?_

"Max, what?"

"I need to make a phone call."

Matthew turned to leave the room but Lovino stopped him with, "Thank them for me." Matthew shot him a look like what he said was absolutely insane and Lovino met his gaze steadily, the mob boss peering from his delicate features. "No one disrespects you the way he did. I'm only jealous they could do it before I could. I would prefer they not interfere in business in my country, but this was personal and I approve."

Matthew gaped at him, working his way up to angry. "Are you _hoping_ for a war with the Cartinellis? Because that's what going to happen if they think his accident had _anything_ to do with what happened in Monaco. Fuck, Lovi, if they make the connection between Marcello and Leo, they would have all the more reason to put the blame on us. I defended myself just fine; _this_ creates an unnecessary risk not just to my life or yours but to the lives of everyone around us. How could you possibly approve of that?"

Instead of backing down, Lovino crossed his arms and glared at him. "Your reputation protects more than you realize, Ghost. Even if people think that his accident was orchestrated by us rather than the result of a petulant man-child with a drinking problem wanting to get away from his security for a night, there's nothing to point to us specifically. Marcello pissed off a lot of people but what happened in Monaco will leave the right people wondering if you were behind this and managed to pull it off without leaving a trace, over something as small as a touch. It will add to your story in a way that will help us all."

"No, it will make people go from respecting me to outright _fearing_ me. Respect is good, fear makes people do stupid shit. And I'm supposed to only act at your command. You really want people to think that you green lit me arranging Marcello's death because he touched me?"

"Do I want them to think that? Not really. But not enough to not still be happy that your boyfriends might have taken him down.

"Besides," Lovino said with a slow smile, "this might just be a happy coincidence. Remember our little meeting with all of them? What if this was just step one?"

 _Make rivals collapse from the inside._

The argument took some of the wind out of Matthew's sails. Having an alternative explanation for why Gilbert and Alistair may have played a role in Marcello's accident left him calmer but also…dejected.

He should probably dissect that last later, but for now he needed to stop getting worked up over something that he wasn't even sure Gilbert and Alistair knew about, let alone caused.

Matthew cleared his throat and shook some of the tension from his shoulders. "If that's the case, we should have been informed. I'll talk to Ric, let him know to be on the lookout for trouble," he said stiffly, upset and not quite understanding why. He turned once more to leave.

"Ghost?" He paused, turned back halfway in silent answer. Lovino's smile had faded and his expression became troubled. "You okay?"

"Yes."

Matthew left the room before Lovino could call him on the lie. He should be fine, calm and investigative. He knew the dangers of jumping to conclusions. He couldn't change what had happened, could only focus on the present and future; _if_ Gilbert and Alistair had done something to Marcello, what did it matter if it wasn't for him?

The more he thought about that possibility, the emptier he felt. For all that he knew they had a line of succession, taking out Marcello in this way would sow chaos in the Cartinelli Family, not only for suddenly losing its heir but rising suspicions that someone in the Family had orchestrated the car accident. Everyone now would think that the Family was unstable internally, vulnerable to losing territory. Their blood was in the water—the sharks would come to feed.

Famine had said the Horsemen's plans started that night of the ball; it would be reasonable that this really was the visible start of their influence in Italy. If that was the case, his only complaint was that he and Lovino should have been warned beforehand. Then again, there was something to be said for plausible deniability, for having people see their surprise when they were told of the accident.

With each realization of possible motives, Matthew felt more and more presumptuous. He felt…hollow and he didn't understand why. It wasn't like he wanted them to kill someone just for touching him, talking to him like that. That would be crazy, unhealthy, and Matthew didn't want a relationship like that.

Right?

It was ridiculous for him to think even for a moment that they would do that for him. Of course he wasn't enough for them to—no! It wasn't about being enough, he couldn't think like that.

Matthew spend the next couple of hours cold, trying to figure out why the hell he was upset before asking for Gilbert and Alistair to talk to him about this. He tried not to let it affect his work, but he knew that his usual neutral expression had turned frigid as he struggled with understanding. He ignored an innocuous text from Gilbert, not sure how to respond to him.

People around him had noticed something was off, had started avoiding him. He knew something had to give when Alicia texted him, checking in after hearing from around that he was in a murderous mood. He sent them a text around 1300, alone in his office and comforted by the privacy.

 **G: Did you have anything to do with this?**

Matthew forced himself to look away from his phone, knowing that one or both of them may not be available for a while. Still, it didn't take long for someone to answer.

 **W: ? With what?**

 **G: Cartinelli.**

 **W: Yep**

Matthew gaped at his phone.

 **G: Excuse me?**

 **G: Do you have any idea what you might have just done?**

 **W: …you're not happy**

 _What gave you that idea!?_

 **G: I don't want to know what exactly you did, but I do want to know why I have to worry about grieving parents breathing down my neck since they know I threatened him in Monaco.**

 **W: …a lot of reasons**

 **G: I suggest you start listing them**

 **W: are you really in more danger? F said this would be fine**

 **W: that's the last thing we wanted**

He blinked at the phone, something in his chest tightening at Gilbert's immediate concern. God, he was a mess. Why was this affecting him so much?

 **G: Nothing I can't handle but I don't understand what's happening here.**

 **G: Things are complicated on my end and it's a lot to explain over text. Could we talk today? All of us?**

 **W: …yeah. D gets out of a meeting in 25 minutes. That okay for you?**

 **G: ok thanks**

 **G: just one thing**

 **G: did you do it for me?**

Matthew held his breath as he watched Gilbert start and stop typing. He didn't know what answer he wanted, but he couldn't stop himself from asking the question.

 **W: mostly**

He sighed and felt unsatisfied with the answer, but didn't respond. He has 25 minutes to sort himself out and arrange his thoughts into something more coherent than a tangle of emotions. He had a meeting scheduled with one of the lieutenants under Alicia's command, his second busy today gathering information on a drug kingpin—queenpin this case. He moved the meeting with him to later that afternoon, thinking he would need to give the conversation with them time.

Meanwhile, he thought as he physically triple checked his office for listening devices. With a call this sensitive, it was good to be sure.

Had he really wanted them to do this for him? No, but he couldn't deny that he had felt better about it when Gilbert had sent that text. How could he both want them to have seriously injured someone over something so small but also not? It made no sense and was hardly fair to them.

He still hadn't figured it out by the time his phone rang close to 30 minutes later.

"Hey. Thanks for calling on short notice," he opened with, not sure where he needed to go, but knowing at least of couple of points he wanted to get across.

"Of course; seemed important. We have ta make this quick, though. Gilly has ta catch a plane." Alistair's voice was careful.

"And Scottie has another meeting in 20 minutes," Gilbert added, tone wry.

"I'll try to be quick then. What was your interest in the Cartinelli accident last night?"

"You. Most wasn't our division but we named the target and method."

Okay, that answered who was mostly to blame for the lack of notice and he'd raise the issue with Famine's people. "Let me see if I'm understanding the situation from your end fully, then. You made arrangements to take out someone I had a somewhat personal vendetta against, even knowing I wouldn't want you to?"

"…We didn't know tha' fer sure. And isn't this helpful ta yer Cartinelli problem?"

Kinda but that wasn't the point.

"We were going to go after him regardless and this served a lot of agendas in the process."

"It would have been more helpful for us if we had been warned beforehand. And you can't just do something professionally to make up for something you did because we're sleeping together."

"Why not?"

It was such a simple question full of genuine curiosity that it made Matthew pause for a moment. Why was this a line he was drawing? "I'm trying to keep my personal and professional life separate." He didn't realize it was true until he said it.

"…Mattie, I hear you but I'm also going to tell you that I have no plans of treating you like I treat our other foreign partners. Professional integrity aside, you're the only person we've been with that we also work with in any capacity. You're different, in a lot of ways, and I've never claimed to be unbiased. And neither has Scottie."

"It's not just that, Gilbert. You both knew that you reacting to what I told you would upset me and you're acting like doing something professionally advantageous for me will no longer give me the right to be pissed at you."

"Of course you have the right to feel whatever you feel. And sure, we knew _that_ but we made no promises not to act on it at a later date when you told us."

Matthew paused and realized that Gilbert was right. He should have seen through the statement, but the post-sex/mid-massage haze really had put him out of it. He reconsidered his thought process and why he was upset. What else had he expected?

The answer was nothing. He had been so in the moment, drunk on the high of sex and sudden access to a relationship he had always wanted, to think that they were independent agents who would do as they liked. It was nothing but pure naïveté and that startled him, as always.

Matthew silently sighed. It horrified him to think back on as little as a year ago and realize all the things he had yet to learn, the pieces of his soul that he had yet to lose. What would the next month bring?

Antonio had warned him and he failed to listen. Gilbert was War, Alistair was Death. Matthew was Ghost, even in his most submissive state. He shouldn't expect them to be anything but what they were: apex predators.

(What did it say about him that sometimes he wished he could just be a man?)

The acknowledgement that his anger was irrational didn't make him feel any less upset. He asked quietly after a long moment, "Why did you do it? Marcello's—" Marcello's family wasn't aware of what he was fully planning, so they likely wouldn't have killed him if they found out he had told Matthew about it. "—he would have been largely neutralized as an immediate threat without him being taken out of the picture entirely. Why go so far as to almost kill him?"

Neither of them came back with a quick answer, but Alistair's tone when he began to speak told him they had thought their reasons obvious. "He disrespected ye, Matthew. He _touched_ ye, when ye notoriously do not like ta be touched, _after_ we made it clear ye were ours. Tha's not acceptable an' should be discouraged. Violence is one of tha few languages tha' everyone in our world speaks."

"That, and we knew that the Cartinelli thing was weighing on you. We didn't want anything to keep you from our date next week or for you to take any unnecessary risks. We're business partners, yes, but we mostly want you to be safe, _Liebling_."

Oh. That was…oh.

Matthew understood then, rather belatedly, that deciding to be with them was possibly, probably, _definitely_ a mistake. Yes, there was the increased physical danger of people knowing he was connected to them in any way, but he had just opened himself up to be emotionally and romantically involved with two _already married_ people. Half the time he spoke to both of them at once, they unthinkingly used _we_ as a pronoun, were a whole unit unto themselves. At the same time, their well-intentioned responses and the corresponding warmth that filled him proved to Matthew that he would need to be careful with more than just his words if he didn't want to find himself at a complete disadvantage with these two.

Matthew cleared his throat and tried to shake off the foreboding that had shrouded him. "I appreciate that, I really do, but could you at least _talk_ to me before doing something like this for personal reasons? It feels like you went over my head, like you thought me incapable of taking care of myself."

"Mattie—"

"I'm not done," he said, cutting off Gilbert and his voice was colder for it. Matthew needed to take a stand now on this at least, because he had a sickening feeling that their desire to care for him and his need to be cared for could make this conversation more difficult in the future. "I am happily submissive to you in bed, but not out of it. I'm your equal or I'm not your anything."

There was a long moment of silence as they waited for him to continue, but Matthew thought he'd said all he needed to. In those seconds, Matthew came to a decision: he would give his body to them, but would carefully guard his heart. He couldn't trust them with it and shouldn't; throwing himself into this relationship without considering the practical costs had already been too reckless. Besides, what he had from them now—fun intimacy—was more than enough, more than he had ever expected.

The absolute last thing he needed was to fall in love with both or, God forbid, one of them. He shuddered at the thought of them having that much control over him, at giving up that sort of freedom to these men. No. Love was a cage was he not about to lock himself in, not when he was already so vulnerable in this relationship.

In any case, neither Gilbert nor Alistair had mentioned anything about feelings or emotional commitment. Matthew didn't know how many other people had been in his position before now, had no clue what they gained from this when they already had each other.

Gilbert spoke first.

"You're right. We should have talked to you and I'm sorry we didn't and that our lapse made you feel that way. This isn't an excuse, but you should know that Alistair and I had an…unconventional courtship."

"He means we would arrange ta have each other's enemies killed ta impress each other. We don't see ye as inferior ta us and I'm sorry we made ye feel like tha'."

Matthew was gaping as something clicked. "Are you telling me that you almost killed him as an outright gift to me?"

"…It seemed normal?" Alistair added sheepishly and he could almost feel their embarrassment through the phone.

"…I'm not going to lie; this just became a lot more adorable." Matthew said, fighting a smile. No wonder they were so confused at his reaction. "Apology accepted."

Someone sighed and Gilbert said, "Thanks. One more thing? That 'I'm your equal' line? Pretty hot."

Matthew face-palmed. "Okay, we've got to go back to work now. Video call for tomorrow still on?"

"Aye."

"Yeah."

"Great. Thanks again for talking. I'm happy we got this cleared up."

"Of course. Oh, an' Mattie?"

"Yes?"

"Ye may want ta consider not wearin' somethin' difficult ta take off tomorrow."

Matthew sucked in an audible breath before saying, slightly appalled, "I'm at _work_."

"And?" Gilbert added, amusement in his voice.

" _Goodbye_ , you fiends." He hung up on their laughter, smile on his lips quickly fading. He stared at the phone, reflected on his decisions, and reminded himself not to get too invested. The contentment he felt from talking to them, the fact that he did find them incredibly cute for acting like a cat bringing home a dead mouse to its owner, was too easy, the kind of instant gratification he knew from experience came for a price.

He just had to make sure that price didn't include a pound of his flesh or a broken heart.

* * *

Two days later, Matthew received a short, private message from Alistair while he was working in his office, awaiting Alicia's arrival with her daily report.

 **D: Sent you something to try to make up for the other thing. Do with it what you will.**

He immediately checked his email. Sure enough, there was something from an anonymous account. There was no text, only two attachments: a spreadsheet and a bank statement.

The account was under a pseudonym, but Matthew had been staring at enough records to vaguely recall seeing it before. He quickly double checked his files then sat back in his chair.

They belonged to Leo, under a false name so obscure that Matthew wouldn't have known it only a week ago, receiving money for an account associated with Cartinelli.

The spreadsheets was just a series of numbers, but the different sheets had highlighted cells with internal bookkeeping from Leo. The numbers shifted, decreasing steadily until the date of a bank transfer.

It was the equivalent of a smoking gun, and his boyfriend had just handed it to him on a platter.

Matthew spent a long time staring at his computer screen, trying to figure out how he felt about this. Professionally, Lovino would be indebted to the Horsemen, and Death in particular, for the intel. There wasn't a question of them not using it: getting Leo off of the board would consolidate Lovino's power, putting him in nearly an untouchable position within the Family. The only problem was that it would be the Horsemen that put him there, for the most part.

Personally, Alistair had sent him something because he had been upset. It was atonement, but it also served to remind Matthew just how much power his boyfriends had. He appreciated it as a thoughtful gift, but _goddamn_ , they really weren't going to keep their professional and personal lives separate, were they?

No one, except Lovino and perhaps Alicia, could know how he got this information. Before, if people found out they were definitively working with the Horsemen, then the discussion would be about Lovino's autonomy. Now, if people found out the extent of the special treatment they were extended because of _Ghost_ … Things could get ugly, fast.

There was a knock at the door. He checked the security feed and found Alicia outside, folder in hand. "Enter," he called. He didn't immediately look up as he greeted her. "Hello, A. We have a situation."

 **G: Unnecessary but appreciated. Thank you.**

Alicia, smartly dressed as usual, quickly closed the door behind her. "Sir?"

"We need Lovino, but I believe the Cartinelli situation is nearing an end." He looked at the computer and allowed a small smirk. "We have him."

Matthew only told her the bare bones (leaving out where he got the information), needing to make more concrete connections before meeting with Lovino later. She delivered her report of the day with her usual competence, mood lifted from his news.

When she left, he checked his phone once more and saw Alistair had responded.

 **D: happy to do it baby**

Matthew's lips curled and he felt a little silly, but replied.

 **G: *kiss***

 **D: *happy blush***

(Gilbert, not to be outdone, sent his own apology gift: a custom handgun with corresponding ammunition. After practicing with it at the firing range, Matthew began wearing it as his back-up. The kickback was shockingly low for the power of the thing. There weren't any decorations on it, save the small stylized "G" carved into the lower left corner of the handle, invisible unless you were looking for it. It was almost anonymous and Matthew loved it.)

* * *

It only took three days for Romulus Vargas to organize a meeting between all the major power players within the organization. It was rare that Roma held this kind of court (as Matthew liked to think about it considering all the unspoken rituals and pageantry), so people managed to make last minute arraignments for any conflicting commitments throughout the country and hauled ass to Rome.

The meeting was held at the Vargas' family estate about a half-hour outside of the city limits. The appointed meeting place today was in what Matthew had dubbed the "war room." It was essentially a large, windowless dining room with a hand-carved hardwood table that seated 24 people and gleaming white marble floors that Matthew hated on principle. With the gilded accents to the cream walls and ivory chandelier, it all but screamed nouveau riche. So why call it the war room?

Let just say he had gotten accustomed to the sight of blood on that pristine marble floor.

Matthew did his best to blend into the background at these kind of formal gatherings, his presence required as Lovino's Right Hand but loathed for who he was. He would have his part to play in the spectacle that was likely to follow, but he wanted to disappear as much as possible for the rest of it. He toned down the silent menace that he usually projected, acting as if he truly was Lovino's protective shadow.

As people arrived and made their greetings to those powerful enough to require it, Matthew noted with some trepidation that people he had not seen in months would openly stare at him until his unyielding gaze met theirs. He had known that the rumors of his sexual activities in Monaco had spread throughout the organization, but the weight of the custom gun at the base of his spine reminded him of the physical risks of being seen as War and Death's man.

Of course, they could also be staring because they speculated that he was the one behind Marcello Cartinelli's now fatal car "accident." He hadn't exactly been subtle when he had threatened him for his insults at the very public masquerade, even if the Cartinelli Family had issued their backhanded apology. Thankfully he had a reputation of being more subtle than the crash suggested and Marcello had not been known for responsible behavior.

One of the gazes he met belonged to Leo, hazel eyes only betraying his concerned speculation in the briefest instant before he sneered cockily at Matthew. Matthew only stared back at him, expression unimpressed to the point of disrespectful, before he looked over to Feliciano and nodded in greeting. Lovino's younger brother was friendly and returned Matthew's customary action with a wide smile.

Roma stood from his seat at the head of a long table (the other end empty since his wife's passing fifteen years prior), silently and efficiently signaling it was time for the meeting to come to order. Everyone fell in line and came to the table if they had a seat. Matthew, unlike many of the other Right Hands and even lower ranking Family members, remained a good three meters away. He stood with his back to the wall behind Lovino who had taken his usual seat, three down from Romulus on his left side. He was acting as security, though every other bodyguard always gave him a wide berth out of respect and fear.

He had made enough of an impression the first six months he had been here to command that response. In fact, a good proportion of the scars on his body were from those early days. Matthew had earned his place through cold, efficient brutality and no one had forgotten it.

Roma sat, usual welcoming statement absent as he watched everyone else do the same, light brown eyes sharp and assessing. Matthew hated the man, but he couldn't say he wasn't handsome still. Laugh lines around his eyes and mouth were the biggest indicator of his true age, which wasn't as old as it really should have been: he and his late son (Lovino's father) had their children in their early 20s. As it was, his face had only softened a little with age and he rather obsessively kept in shape—meaning he likely wouldn't die of natural causes as soon as Matthew hoped he would. Once brown hair was streaked with silver, giving the Vargas patriarch an almost stately look.

When he spoke, Roma used a conversational tone, voice carrying through the otherwise silent space. "You know I have little use for hesitation in this space; We have been betrayed." Whether that was the royal "we" or he genuinely meant the entire family was up in the air. Roma fancied himself king of his kingdom and, to some extent, it was true. No one said a word, everyone but Matthew and Lovino physically reacting to the words. "I will give the person who is the cause of this meeting a chance to come forward now and admit to it before I start pulling out evidence and embarrassing you."

…Even Matthew was unnerved at his near frivolous air when speaking of an offense that carried an automatic death sentence. Despite this, it was clear Roma was pissed, caramel eyes flinty as he surveyed each member of the table.

Predictably, no one said a word. Matthew wasn't sure if a few of them were breathing. Roma sighed then he slouched back in his chair, the picture of someone secure in his power. "Very well. Lovino."

Some startled in surprise, misunderstanding and thinking Lovino had somehow been dumb enough to get himself into his situation. Lovino leaned forward casually and looked across the table to his cousin, who rather ironically was sitting one seat closer to Romulus than he was. "Leo, do you have anything to share with the Family? About Marcello Cartinelli, perhaps?"

Everyone turned to stare openly at Leo, a few jaws dropping on the way. Feliciano, who was seated next to Lovino and closer to Roma, physically jolted. Matthew couldn't see his expression with them facing away, but he could bet that Lovino's brother was hurt by the insinuation that he knew could only be true if it was being brought up in this setting.

To his credit, Leo kept his cool, didn't immediately start begging for his life which would have been the smart if disgraceful thing to do. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Lovi," he said, voice smooth and mocking. He knew, almost _everyone_ knew, that the only person that Lovino didn't mind calling him that (in public) was his younger brother. Was he really so arrogant to think Lovino wouldn't have anything on him?

Lovino didn't answer immediately, only raised his right hand to the side as if he was expected to be handed something. Matthew moved forward silently and swiftly at the summons (like the pet everyone needed to believe he was) and handed a black flash drive to Lovino. He then melted back like he had never been there, a few people gazing at him disconcertedly before looking back at the drama unfolding.

"I don't have any glossy pictures, I'm afraid, and Marcello is rather conveniently dead. Still, the numbers are eloquent. Can you explain why you've been ceding territory to Marcello slowly over the past seven months?"

Leo shifted, head tilting a little and eyes narrowing as if in amusement. He seemed at ease to anyone who didn't know his nervous tick—tapping his fingers. Matthew could hear the subtle rhythm he was creating on the table from where he stood. "Where did you get that idea?"

Lovino didn't answer, though Matthew could almost hear him retort, _If you're going to betray the Family, don't do it with a loose-lipped alcoholic_.

No one said anything for a long moment, then Roma prompted, low and vicious, "Leonardo. Lovino asked you a question."

"I don't answer to him, grandfather. Only you."

"You answer to me _and_ him. Or do you not respect this Family enough to defer to its heir?" Everyone looked at Roma then in utter shock. He didn't care to take his eyes off of Leo, like what he just said didn't have serious implications for everyone at the table. Lovino had gone absolutely rigid and Matthew had to resist the urge to go to his friend if only to lay a steadying hand on his shoulder. They both had half believed that they would have to fight for control once Roma finally did them all a favor and died, thinking the old man would rather leave things unsettled than do Lovino the courtesy.

Lovino shrugged off any surprise quickly, not wanting people to realize just how unplanned that little announcement had been. He hadn't turned his head and likely hadn't taken his eyes off of Leo, who had gone ghost (ha!) white at the statement. No one dared prompting him to speak and the silence stretched painfully. When Leo looked away from his grandfather to Lovino with such _hatred_ on his face, Matthew instinctively glanced around the room. An animal was backed into a corner with nothing to lose, only people to take with him. Matthew didn't draw down on anyone, but his right hand twitched for his gun, his left discretely palming the knife sheathed at his wrist. He started adjusting his position slowly to keep as many targets in his field of vision as possible.

"I wouldn't," Roma said, suddenly breaking the silence, speaking to Leo. "You make one wrong move and someone, likely you, will die."

Unease rippled down the table, through the room. "You would order me killed at this table, grandfather?" Leo asked, astonishment in his voice. He kept invoking his familial relationship like it would save him. If anything, it only made the betrayal worse.

"I wouldn't have to. To move against Lovino is to seek death. Or did you forget his Right Hand so soon?" Every eye except Lovino's swiveled to Matthew's position and he froze, arms crossed in front of him, one hand obviously close to where he carried his gun and the position hiding the knife that he had ready to fly into Leo's second. He would prefer to have the gun naked in his hand and aimed at Leo, but to openly draw in this setting without provocation was just Not Done. Without taking his eyes off of Leo, Matthew nodded in acknowledgement and feigned deference to the Family's head. "Say what you like about him, but I could not have asked for a more loyal and deadly servant to my heir."

It was a compliment, one that nearly startled Matthew out of his coiled readiness. At that Lovino turned to gaze steadily at his grandfather. The old man was being talkative tonight which was in character about twenty-five years ago. Now, it was outright bizarre. That, combined with his sudden verbal approval of him, had Matthew thinking a pod person had taken over Roma.

Apparently he wasn't the only one caught wrong-footed and not a few glances was exchanged between other Family members. Roma was old guard. Most of the people at the table were from his children's or Lovino's generation. They were probably wondering if this was the first sign that Roma's sharp mind was starting to give way to age.

Typical that it would take a respectful word about Matthew to make them question that.

"The look on your faces…" Roma continued, a hint of a smile coming to his face before dropping completely. "Enough. Michael."

"Yes, sir." Michael was Roma's head enforcer, a man of around fifty who wore every year like it was a hard one. A former boxer, he was a large man who still bloodied his own hands on occasion rather than ordering someone else to do it, despite his seniority.

Today was not one of those days, however, and a gesture from Michael was enough for Roma's guards to move and grab hold of Leo's most loyal supporters, only his second being outright restrained. Michael's younger and bigger counterpart—his son Donny—dragged Leo from his chair, gun naked in his free hand. Matthew relaxed his position infinitesimally as Donny could handle Leo easily, but Leo remained armed and Roma's orders remained unclear.

Leo protested but Roma spoke over him, voice strong with conviction and a fine rage. "I have grown weary of much these past few years, not the least of which the short-sightedness of many of you. I have given my long life in the service of strengthening this Family, seeing it prosper and thrive. I have also watched as my relatives and decedents threatened my life's work. _No more_." He looked at Leo then. "How dare you. Did you think my love for you outweighed my love of everyone else in our Family? What did you hope to accomplish in weakening our powerbase by _giving it_ to that Cartinelli brat?"

Leo was pale but forced himself to stand tall and proud in the moment of his downfall. "Lovino never should have been given the position he has. It was me, _me_ who had worked towards managing our information. He was _gone_ and everything was falling into place for me to be the keeper of our secrets and be named—"

"You know exactly what you did and did not do to lose that opportunity, Leonardo. Do not lay the blame for your failures and bad decisions at the feet of your cousin." Leo tensed further at the chiding and Matthew wondered at that for a moment. "When you realized you could never be heir, you decided to ensure he had nothing left to inherit, then?"

The silence that followed was answer enough, though the defiant tilt of Leo's head served to hammer another nail in his coffin. "You foolish child. You disgrace your mother, that her only son would be such a coward when she was loyal to the end."

"Loyalty to you brought my mother only misery and death, _grandfather_." The familial title now was little more than a curse.

Speaking of Roma's beloved but deceased daughter—who was killed in the same tragic afternoon as Lovino and Feliciano's parents—in such a manner finally evoked an emotional response from the man. His body went still and his face went white with rage, but he did not raise his voice as he said carefully, "You are no kin of mine. Dispose of him."

Leo didn't try to make a break for it, but did make an attempt to draw a weapon. Matthew's knife flew before he was truly aware of it, before Donny could even turn his gun to further discourage movement. It struck him solidly in the stomach, the pain enough to double him and make his gun clatter to the floor in shock. The wound wouldn't kill him immediately, but that wasn't Matthew had hoped for anyway.

All it took was a lucky second for a bullet to land in someone. By failing to disarm him, by still treating Leo as if he deserved special accommodation, Donny had endangered a number of people, including himself. Leo cursed him loudly. "You missed," he spat, hand wrapping around the hilt against his skin as if to pull the blade out and fling it back at him.

"No," Lovino answered as Donny proceeded to drag him, newly weakened, towards the exit. "He didn't."

Hatred once more flared in Leo's face, distorting his otherwise handsome features, and it was as he looked at Lovino that he managed to pull that knife halfway out. Matthew's gun was drawn and aimed, but it was unnecessary. Donny fired at Leo's obvious effort to arm himself, the right half of the once powerful man's cranium suddenly missing, red spraying against the bone white wall.

Someone at the table swallowed a scream, but Lovino, Feliciano, and Roma did not so much as flinch.

To Donny's credit, he just seemed annoyed as he holstered his gun and continued dragging the dead weight out of the room, leaving a ruby smear on the pale marble floor in his wake. Matthew was back in his usual neutral stance, gun away and posture relaxed before anyone thought to look at him again.

The meeting adjourned quickly after that, Roma giving a mundane update as to the general state of the Family and commenting briefly to Lovino about some extra responsibilities he was to take on as their world's version of a crown prince. One of these was to come up with a short list of replacements for Leo's position quickly.

Lovino's only response to these missives was, "Yes, sir."

When they left, Matthew's cleaned knife returned to him, Lovino was pensive. There would be much to talk of in the coming days; neither of them had expected Roma to name him heir or for Leo to be executed in front of them. But Matthew knew something else gnawed at his friend as he stared out of his window silently. They were alone, in the back of a limo sent from Roma for the occasion, and Matthew was very aware they were likely being listened to. His voice was cautious as he offered, voice empty of emotion, "Sir?"

Lovino looked at him and Matthew was surprised to see hatred on his face. He said in English, "Do you know what test Leo failed when I returned to Italy?"

It was a non-sequitur, but Lovino had a reason for saying that here, now. Matthew shook his head.

Lovino nodded to him once, pointedly, and Matthew understood.

The test that would have given Leo all he had wanted was to kill Matthew.

Anyone who knew that at the table was just told that the only way to gain power themselves was to take him out, too.

Most loyal and deadly servant indeed. Roma had not paid him a compliment; he had put a target on his and Lovino's back. Roma hadn't let go of his bias against him and Lovino, only masked it in approval in the face of betrayal.

 _Who would understand?_ Matthew asked silently, mouthing the words.

Lovino made dismissive gesture. _A few; not enough to make a difference._

"Yes, sir," Matthew said, tone heavy with meaning. Roma had quietly declared war on them, perhaps for putting him in a position where he had to have one of his favored grandson's killed despite Leo's foolish decisions. With this new information, Matthew knew it was time to lay the groundwork for yet _another_ contingency plan. In any case, they at least knew who they could rely on, had been slowly preparing for the moment of Lovino's ascendency to head of the Family for years.

And now, they had an unseen advantage. The corner of Matthew's mouth twitched and he held up four fingers.

Lovino grinned grimly. They had a hint of the chaos that was to come to Italy, with everyone else utterly unaware. "When the time is right, my friend. For now, though, I believe you are overdue for employment benefits."

Matthew rolled his eyes and Lovino laughed. He would see his boyfriends and now would not only have to guard his heart against them, but the fact that things had taken a turn towards the dangerous in Italy.

Should be easy, right?

* * *

Only a few days later Matthew found himself landing in London on a private plane. The aircraft had been waiting when he had arrived at a designated hanger at the Ciampino Airport, sent to him by Alistair. Gilbert was on the ground, recently arrived himself, and waiting for him. He was excited to see them, sure, but all too aware of the promise he had made himself when it came to being careful around them. It certainly didn't help that he was nervous. Matthew knew the day's basic itinerary: meeting Gilbert at the airport, them going to a restaurant where they would meet Alistair for dinner before ending up in his primary residence in the city. Still, he wasn't sure what to expect.

What if Monaco had been a fluke and they came to their senses after being around him a bit more? How was he supposed to greet them and treat them in public? Could he give in to his desires and just launch himself at them, seeking the easy affection he had come to miss over the three weeks (and especially the most recent days) they had been apart? Would his other physical needs be obvious?

Soon enough he was out of time to worry. It was hard to resist defaulting to familiar, distant formality as he murmured his thanks to the flight attendant and captain as he exited the plane and emerged from the aircraft. He paused at the top of the stairs down to the tarmac, watching a black car pull up parallel to the plane. Matthew descended the stairs carefully, torn between natural wariness and the rising excitement that had returned to him. When the car stopped and Gilbert emerged from the back seat, dressed in a black button-up and sunglasses, Matthew wasn't quick enough to stop the smile that immediately split his face. When Gilbert returned it, it was all Matthew could do to keep himself from running over to the man.

Matthew had to look away to get his face under control as he quickly walked over, the sounds of planes taking off and landing near-by saving him from attempting any yelled greeting. He blushed a little, still unsure of what he was allowed or expected to do here.

He slowed as he crossed the last two meters to him, figuring the best thing to do was ask. He felt silly for it, but looked back at Gilbert shyly and began, "Can I—"

Gilbert cut him off by stepping forward and pulling him into a hug. Matthew returned it immediately, briefcase still awkwardly held in one hand as he melted into the man, relieved.

"Hey, Mattie," he said against his ear, the sound of his name in person doing more than he thought possible to strip him effectively of the layers of personal shielding and caution he maintained to be Ghost. "Good to see you."

Matthew wanted to kiss him, say he missed him, but both felt unwise. "Gil," he managed, pulling back from the hug but not going far. "Is it okay to kiss you here?"

Gilbert stiffened and pursed his lips. "Not really." He glanced over to where other hangers were and the main complex beyond. "I shouldn't even be out of the car."

With that he stepped back and slid into the vehicle. Matthew shot a worried glance the way Gilbert had looked, but couldn't spot anything out of the usual. Of course, since the usual involved a shit ton of security and cameras, it was best that he get out of easy sight as well.

Matthew had barely sat in the car and closed the door behind him when Gilbert turned his head and kissed him. Matthew had glimpsed a closed partition, so he felt no qualms in kissing back as hard as he wanted or releasing a relieved sound at the contact. The car was moving by the time Matthew went to straddle his lap unthinkingly and hit his head on the roof with a curse.

Gilbert was laughing softly into his mouth and Matthew couldn't help smiling. "Shut up," he grumbled before he resumed kissing him. Gilbert placed possessive, splayed hands on him and tried to pull him closer. It didn't work well since Matthew sitting up any straighter would have his head on the ceiling again, but he tried.

When Gilbert made a frustrated noise and settled for groping him, Matthew pulled back with a gasp and put his hands over Gilbert's to stop him. They both froze for a moment before the car's movement made Matthew rest more of his weight against him to stay balanced. Matthew smiled from a short distance and said, "Hi."

He huffed out a laugh, arms going around his lower back as if to hug him now. "Hello."

"Not that I'm not _really_ happy to see you…"

"So it's not just a knife in your pocket?"

 _Dork_ , he thought affectionately. "…but aren't we going to dinner now?"

Gilbert sighed, a hand coming up to gently push Matthew's hair from his face. "Yeah. It's not too far either. You're making me forget myself."

"Should I apologize for that?" Matthew asked softly, hands resting flat on Gilbert's chest.

"Never. Though you should probably get off my lap," he said with a smirk, eyes lighting up with amusement. "Brings back too many memories."

An image from the last time they had been together flashed through his mind: Gilbert smirking up at him after he had said something absolutely filthy as Matthew rode him; his hand in his hair to keep Matthew's eyes on him; both of them panting and flushed from ongoing sex; Alistair's encouraging voice in his ear and hands on his hips to help him when his legs started seriously protesting the strain…

"That look on your face is not exactly helping, _Liebling_ ,"

He blinked his eyes back into focus and saw that Gilbert's expression was edging into the one he had tentatively labeled his _I'm going to wreck you and you're going to like it_ face. Though, considering who he was on top of, perhaps it was more apropos to call it his _Daddy_ face, at least when it came to him.

Truth be told, he wasn't feeling particularly helpful at the moment. And for all that he had been at Gilbert and Alistair's mercy sexually since they had met, he wanted to return just a little bit of the favor.

A small smile formed on his face and he ran one hand up Gilbert's chest, along his neck, and into his hair. Gilbert's hands moved to squeeze his hips as Matthew leaned forward slowly, missing his mouth as he aimed to speak right next to his ear. He whispered, "I'm sorry, daddy." Gilbert froze beneath him and Matthew slowly started drawing the hand that was resting on his chest down the center of it. He continued, "It's been a _very_ long three weeks without you."

"I don't think you're sorry, Matthew," Gilbert growled, turning his face to bite at Matthew's neck. He shivered at the feeling as Gilbert said, "There's not nearly enough room in here for you to call me that."

"And if there was?" Matthew pulled back to look at him. Gilbert smiled at him, though it wasn't what he would call friendly. It sent a thrill of warning down his spine and he _really_ needed to be careful if he didn't want to show up to dinner extremely late and looking like he'd been fucked hard in the back of a car. He _did_ have lube and condoms in his briefcase, but Gilbert was right: there wasn't enough room for that.

"I'd make you scream it."

They stared at each other for what felt like a long time before Matthew nodded and said, "I'm going to get off of you now."

"Good choice." Matthew began slowly extricating himself from Gilbert's lap. "We can't be late for our date, after all."

"True." Now that sex was off the table, Matthew found himself awkward again. He tried not to let it show, but he couldn't help asking as he took Gilbert's hand and remained plastered to his side, "Is this okay?"

"Hmm?" Gilbert looked at him, obviously mellower now that Matthew wasn't on top of him. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not…" Crowding you? Being too clingy? Too starved for affection? None of those were any less embarrassing, so he looked down and squeezed Gilbert's hand lightly. "Is this okay?"

"What, holding my hand? Of course it is. Why do you ask?"

"We never talked about it, that's all. I don't want to be too…I don't know how these things work, remember?"

"Hey," Matthew looked back at him and Gilbert leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "The presumption is that we can be reasonably affectionate with each other in public unless it would draw a lot of attention or we're somewhere unsecure. When it's just us, it would be weird if you weren't."

"Okay, thanks," Matthew said, relaxing against him.

"Have you been worrying about it?" Gilbert asked, frowning.

"Yeah. It's just, I…" Matthew cleared his throat, trying to find a way to explain that didn't make him sound utterly pathetic. "…I never had the chance to learn how much I liked physical affection before you and Alistair. And wanting things has never really gone well for me."

Matthew snapped his mouth closed at that and looked away as he cursed his own stupidity _again_. Goddammit, wasn't he going to keep this light and fun? Make sure he didn't freely give every piece of himself to them when the power scales between them were already tipped in their favor? That he couldn't trust them with more than that?

He shifted away from him uncomfortably, but kept Gilbert's hand. He cleared his throat. "How was your flight?"

"Fine," Gilbert said slowly, like he was considering not letting the topic change slide. Then he sighed, lifted their hands to kiss the back of Matthew's briefly and continued. "Tried to get some work done but it's always so short I feel like the second I really get into something we start landing."

"What were you working on?" Matthew asked, eased by the shift in conversation.

"Weapons design. Working on a grenade prototype that can safely carry more volatile substances. The chemistry is tricky."

Matthew hummed and thought it was safe to look at Gilbert once more. He was frowning a little into the middle distance, like he was seeing formulas rather than the car itself. He was kind of cute like that, his mouth forming a small pout as he thought. "Thanks again. For the gun."

Gilbert brought himself back to the present and smiled at him. "You're welcome. I know you probably have a lot of guns, but I wanted to send you something."

Matthew returned the smile. "I love it. I actually started wearing it as my back-up, so rest assured it's not collecting dust somewhere."

Gilbert stared at him. "You're…wearing my gun?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows at that, thinking it was _his_ gun now, but knew what he meant. "Yeah."

"Where?"

"Lower back. You actually touched it earlier." He kept his main gun in a shoulder holster under his left arm with extra ammo under his right. He often wore jackets and hated ankle holsters enough to get used to the mild discomfort of carrying a gun at the base of his spine. Gilbert was still staring at him and did so long enough for Matthew to prompt, "What?"

He didn't directly answer him. Instead, without looking away from him, Gilbert reached forward and pressed a discrete button. "Nick, how far away are we from the restaurant?"

"No more than 15 minutes out, sir," came a wry reply, as if he knew something Matthew didn't about why Gilbert would ask that question. "Would you like me to take a detour?"

Gilbert sighed, but a smirk came to his mouth. "I hate that you know me that well, but better not. Thanks."

"Of course, sir." A sudden lack of white noise signaled the end of the connection.

Matthew had caught on by this point and was biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Your second?"

"One of them and probably the best tactical driver I've ever met." He offered no explanation for the other things but Matthew wasn't going to let that go.

He turned to look more fully at Gilbert (as much as the seat allowed), eyebrows raised. "You like that I'm wearing your gun." His choice of words were deliberate and he saw the slight flush of Gilbert's face as he was confronted. "You liked it when I was wearing your shirt."

"And?" Matthew could see him starting to get defensive, so he shook his head and smiled coyly.

"I want to know what you like." He leaned forward and squeezed the hand that was still holding his. "How else will I know what to do?"

Gilbert closed the distance between them and kissed him briefly. It was a soft touch, gentle, and Matthew wanted more of it the second Gilbert moved away. He was mildly dazed by the kiss and Gilbert smiled as Matthew struggled to bring himself to full attention. He released Matthew's hand and brought it up to cup his cheek, needlessly, disarmingly, and alarmingly tender. "I want you to be mine, Matthew. We want you to be ours. Is it so wrong to like knowing you're wearing my things or gifts?"

 _Only if it's wrong that I want to be yours_ , he thought but thankfully didn't say. He shook his head and leaned forward to kiss him again, needing an excuse to ground this moment in the physical, to make it about sex and not a growing desire he didn't want to acknowledge. He could be theirs, but only to a certain extent, and he needed to remember that.

The car rolled to a stop and parked before the kiss could escalate. Gilbert pulled away and grinned. "Come on. There's someone waiting for us."

There was a knock on the partition and Gilbert opened his door. Dusk had fallen, giving the alley deep shadows. One of Gilbert's security was waiting to the side of an open door, facing away from Matthew as they kept watch. "Can I leave my briefcase here?" Matthew asked as he followed Gilbert out of the car, too much on his side anyway to bother opening the other door.

"Sure. If we don't end up taking this car back it will be at Scottie's place." Matthew nodded and closed the door behind him. Gilbert took his free hand and smiled at him. "This is about as private being in public can be, so you don't have to worry about anything, okay?"

Matthew not worrying about _anything_ was a stretch, but he understood what he meant. "Thanks."

Gilbert led them into the back door of the restaurant, the corridors clear as they passed by the kitchen and restrooms but narrow enough that they couldn't walk side-by-side comfortably. Gilbert squeezed his hand reassuringly before releasing him and turning a corner. A server dressed in white and black acknowledged him. "Welcome back, sir."

"Thank you, Max." Matthew had to cough to cover his sudden urge to laugh. Gilbert shot him an incredulous look before entering the room with a grin. "Hey, Scottie."

"Took ye long enough. Where's—" Matthew followed Gilbert into the private dining room, it was romantically lit but empty except for a table dressed for a semi-formal dinner and Alistair. Rather than the all black that Mathew and Gilbert had gone with, Alistair wore a dark green shirt and black pants. He was standing by the table and his smile widened when he caught sight of Matthew. Matthew found himself grinning back easily as he heard the door shut behind him. They were alone.

"Rude," Gilbert said as he approached his husband, but it was good natured.

Alistair rolled his eyes and stepped forward to pull Gilbert into a short kiss. "Yes, hello, I saw ye last week."

Gilbert pulled him into a hug that Alistair easily returned. "Asshole," Gilbert said, affectionate.

"Sap. I missed ye, too; noo let me go."

Matthew had hung back to give them space, interested in seeing more of how their relationship worked since he was planning on spending more time with them. He felt…well, he didn't quite know how to describe it. Perhaps privileged? Gilbert and Alistair could probably count on both hands the number of people they would let see them like this that they weren't paying and they trusted Matthew with this **.** He found the way that they sniped at each other endearing and further understood that yes, they probably would see killing other people as a romantic gesture.

Alistair turned to him and Matthew only hesitated a heartbeat before moving forward to hug him tight. He fell into the embrace, something in him easing as they were now all together. The feeling instantly alarmed him and his body tensed in response. Being around both of them should have put him further on guard more than anything else. They had already proven that they could and would work together to take down his every defense, in public or private.

Since that was the case, why was it so hard to not melt into him?

"Mattie?" Alistair asked at Matthew's tensing, running a hand down his back.

 _Light and fun, remember?_ Matthew pulled back, eyes down, and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw in silent apology for his weirdness. "Hey, Alistair," he said quietly.

Alistair still held him close and he was frowning as he laid a gentle hand on Matthew's cheek. "Alright?"

Matthew silently nodded and then, in an effort to be consistent and distract from his inability to keep himself together, asked with a shyness he didn't have to fake, "Can I kiss you?"

"Mattie—" Gilbert started from further in the room but Alistair didn't bother speaking, simply kissed him in response. He thankfully didn't have to fight himself in yielding his body to them, so it was easy to relax into the kiss and moan quietly when Alistair gripped the back of his neck and licked into his mouth.

Matthew's stomach audibly growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in a solid eight hours and making Alistair end the kiss with a smile. "I guess we should at least order."

"It _is_ supposed to be a date," Gilbert said, amused. He came up beside them and pushed them gently towards the table. "Plan to do something other than sex and food when we need it remember?"

Dinner was…nice actually.

It was a simple three course meal of comfort food. Matthew lazily sipped at his scotch through the conversation that flowed as they talked about everything but their jobs. There were flirty barbs and loaded glances, but they never acknowledged them enough for the tension to overwhelm the conversation. The conversation mostly remained light, a fact Matthew was grateful for, but informative all the same.

Here's a bit what he learned:

1\. Gilbert was a dog person, like Matthew, and Alistair was _such_ a cat person. Matthew shared a glance with Gilbert, clearly saying _you married someone who doesn't like dogs?_ Gilbert's response was to shrug and gesture to Alistair subtly. _The rest of him makes up for it._ That was high praise in Matthew's book.

2\. Alistair found the debate he and Gilbert got into over the Star Wars franchise (one of the few Matthew followed since he grew up with the prequels) utterly ridiculous, threw a monkey wrench in by saying _Star Trek is better_. Gilbert knew not to argue the point with his husband, though he did shoot him a dirty look. Both of them were appalled when Matthew shrugged and said, _Maybe. I only saw part of the original series and can't say ether way._

3\. Neither of them could cook well, but Alistair was an absolute _disaster_ in a kitchen. Apparently he managed to burn water once (leaving a pot of water boiling on the stove so long that the water burned away and he messed up the pot). Matthew lightly squeezed Alistair's hand as he said, "I'll be making breakfast then."

4\. They were both fascinated Matthew being Canadian and how that was counter to everyone's intel on him. Matthew shrugged as he gave a very abbreviated explanation of his childhood. "If it helps, my twin was American." That didn't but it did deflect the conversation, the past tense making them pause before pushing on, as he hoped it would.

5\. Gilbert's only sibling was the one he had mentioned—a younger brother apparently. Alistair apparently had a number of siblings, his childhood a hell of a lot more complicated than Matthew's. "I'm tha dead brother in me family. Keeps them safer," Alistair said with a sardonic smile before he realized how stricken Matthew looked. "Oh, baby, no. They know I'm alive an' tha' I left them fer their safety. I let them know I'm alive every so often, an' they know if they're in a true bind I'll help them. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made light of it." (Alistair was near rambling, concerned, but Matthew easily forgave him, pleased to know he wouldn't inflict that kind of pain on his family. Plus, it was endearing to see the usually unflappable man out of sorts with just one look from Matthew.)

6\. Gilbert was practiced at smoothing over the feathers Alistair ruffled, at once changing the subject to the book he was reading while subtly making sure everyone was okay.

It was only when dessert was brought that Alistair and Gilbert shared a meaningful glance and turned to Matthew as one.

"We have a proposition fer ye," Alistair said, looking at him steadily as he relaxed into his chair. That gave Matthew pause and he fork froze halfway through his cheesecake.

"What kind of proposition?" he asked, wariness clear in his tone as he shifted narrow eyes between them.

"The sexual kind. The kind that we want to talk about now when you have a clear head."

Matthew couldn't help smirking a little and went back to preparing his bite of dessert. "Aren't we a little late for being this coy about kink negotiation?" he asked dryly. They both blinked at him and exchanged a considering look. "…that's not what you had in mind. Well, I'm listening."

"We want to know more about you, how you work, and what you like, but you're…" Gilbert hesitated, obviously not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"I'm what?"

"Shy. Nervous when we don't want ye ta be," Alistair supplied.

Matthew narrowed his eyes at them. Yes, he was circumspect, but only when it came to more personal details, not sex. _That_ ship had pretty much sailed the night he had met them. "Go on."

"We want ye ta trust us," Matthew tensed. They had avoided bringing up what had happened with Marcello, but it looks like he couldn't escape it completely.

"I do trust you. I'm here, alone, and your staff has my luggage. Do you think that would be true if I didn't? That's more than I've trusted anyone I've known for less than a month." That was a little bit of a lie. He didn't feel like they would hurt him physically because they had had every opportunity to do that before now, but more importantly it would make little sense for them to hurt him. They were playing far more dangerous and complex games on a larger scale than Matthew professionally and probably had more money and power than they knew what to do with. Hurting or betraying him in that way would not only lack a motive but be against everything they had shown him in the past few weeks and _that_ was why he was here, like this. It wasn't trust so much as a calculated risk.

"We want ye ta trust us with more than yer physical safety, Matthew. We want ye ta trust us with _ye_."

Matthew stared at Alistair, then Gilbert for a long moment. He almost asked what made them think he didn't, but decided he'd rather not know, not with what he was hiding. He was _so_ not trained for espionage. The silence stretched for an awkwardly long time, none of them moving, and Gilbert was the one who broke it.

"I don't know if it's just habit or something else, but you're afraid to tell and ask us stuff." Matthew flinched but contained it well. _You noticed that, huh?_ "We don't want you to be afraid of us for any reason."

 _Can you blame me?_ Matthew braced himself and asked carefully. "What exactly do you want from me? What's the proposal?"

"Tonight, we'll ask ye things in bed, about ye an' wha' ye like."

Matthew stared at them. "…In bed " _Where my filter is fucking non-existent._ "About me."

" _About_ what you like in bed," Gilbert clarified at Matthew's tone and look. "We'll limit the questions just to sex-related things."

Matthew didn't relax at that. With so many years with sex as his only opportunity to be himself, he was sure that his numerous kinks said things about himself he wasn't ready to face, let alone tell Gilbert and Alistair. Still, the limitation kept him from panicking outright. "You want to interrogate me while I won't be able to think straight enough to stop myself from being entirely truthful. Doesn't that strike you as unbalanced?"

Alistair leaned back and smiled at him in a way that had Matthew further on edge. "We thought of tha'. We want ta get ye out ye yer head, baby." _More like out of my mind_ , Matthew thought. "In exchange, we'll answer tha same number of questions we ask of ye honestly, about anythin' tha' won't get our people killed."

Matthew's fork fell out of numb fingers and fell to his plate with a clatter before he could catch himself. "When?"

"Whenever you want." Matthew forced himself to blink. "We get that you're new at this, and that we've already given you a reason to be careful about what you say to us. We learned the hard way that trust is the only way a relationship can work and I think that in one as complicated as this one, it's essential. If we want you to trust us, we have to trust you."

Matthew looked away from Gilbert, finding his cheesecake fascinating as his cheeks heated. The offer was extraordinary and there _were_ a number of things he wanted to know about them. And this meant they would probably limit their questions to him out of ingrained self-preservation.

He took in a lot of air and looked up at them from under his eyelashes. "What do you want to know?"

Alistair's eyes flashed and Gilbert smirked in ways that both turned Matthew on and utterly terrified him. "You'll see. Anything you want us to do tonight? Something related to how _long_ the past three week have been?"

 _This_ was safer territory. A small smirk formed on Matthew's mouth in answer and he said, "Alistair, how well stocked is your pantry? If you're both going to fuck me as much as I want you to, I want to make sure you have the ingredients for pancakes before we wear ourselves out."

"He wouldn't know." Alistair turned narrow eyes on his husband. "Don't look at me like that; you don't cook enough to know the difference between flour and baking powder."

"Rude." Alistair flipped him off while rolling his eyes. He said to Matthew over Gilbert's laughter, "Text it ta one of us, Mattie, and we'll have tha supplies delivered ta tha house."

* * *

Alistair: Did ye think about us when ye got yerself off this week?

Matthew: Of course. Why would I think about anyone else?

Alistair: Wha' did we do ta ye?

Matthew: Fucked me like...like I'm yours.

Alistair: Yer ours, baby. No matter what we do in bed, yer ours an' we couldn't be happier about it.

(Matthew realizes then just how true that was, and it terrifies him.)

Gilbert: Don't, Matthew.

Matthew: Don't what?

Gilbert: Hide. Why are you afraid of us?

Matthew (whispering): Want you. Want you to want me. Never had that. Not like this.

(Matthew decides the only way he could get through this emotionally is to stop thinking.)

Gilbert: Why do you like it when we come i-inside you?

Matthew: Claims me. No one else has. Feels good.

Alistair: Tha' first night, ye asked us ta ruin ye. Have we succeeded?

Matthew: Y-yeah.

Gilbert: Good.

* * *

When it was over, Matthew's hands had started automatically running down Gilbert's back, soothing him instinctually as he calmed. When Gilbert rested heavily against him and nuzzled contentedly into his neck, Matthew couldn't help the small smile. He blinked his eyes open and grew more solemn as he caught sight of Alistair looking over them both with an unreadable expression. Matthew was still too blissed out to worry about what he had said and his mind actively shied away from thinking on it further. Instead, he lifted a hand from Gilbert's back and reached for Alistair.

His boyfriend met him halfway and came closer to them. He leaned over to kiss first Gilbert's shoulder then Matthew's forehead. Matthew watched him do both things silently then had to ask, voice scratchy, "Did you find out what you wanted to know?"

"Some. Enough fer noo," he said cryptically before smirking and shoving lightly at his husband. "Get off him, Gilly. I want ta clean up an' cuddle."

Gilbert muttered as he gently pulled out of Matthew and rolled to his side. He didn't go far, leaving half of his body draped over Matthew as he held him close. "Cuddle now."

That had Matthew's mouth curving without his permission, his arm coming around Gilbert's back to return the embrace. He was still looking up at Alistair, who had a matching smile on his face, but thoughtful eyes. With no further form of protest, Alistair settled down to mirror Gilbert's position, surrounding and covering Matthew.

To his surprise (though perhaps he should stop being surprised by these things with them), he felt Alistair's erection press against his thigh. Anticipation warred with exhaustion to pool in his stomach, and Matthew said, "Oh, I didn't realize…did you want—"

"—ta hold ye both, yes. Don't worry about it, Mattie," Alistair said with a kiss to his chest. Matthew tensed and before he even had time to fully form the thought _he doesn't want me_ , Alistair lifted his head with a smirk and continued. "Yer with us all weekend, _leannan_. Be a shame if we wore ye out tha first night."

"Right," Matthew said with a blush. Gilbert lazily looked up at the word and grinned at him.

"You're cute."

Matthew blushed harder. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Alistair tried to nod solemnly but his chin was still on his chest his eyes were sparling with amusement. "Yer adorable."

"Ugh." Matthew lifted his arms from them in an attempt to cover his face.

"Hey, are you ticklish?" Gilbert said, lifting himself from him to put light, _dangerous_ fingers on his side.

Matthew froze and lowered his hands enough to reveal his eyes. He had accidentally left himself wide open and he couldn't escape, not with Alistair still putting most of his weight on him. "…No?"

Alistair's grin was showing a lot of teeth as he moved just in time for Gilbert to test the obvious lie. Matthew tried to not react, but he was too relaxed with them, for so many reasons, and couldn't help the swallowed shriek of laughter.

He slapped at their hands and tried to get away. It didn't work; his position had left him at a clear disadvantage and sex and the tickling made him weak. Alistair caught him when he tried to leave the bed and held him still against his front, defenseless to Gilbert's clever fingers.

"Wait, stop," he asked breathlessly between laughs, writhing against Alistair. "Thought you wanted to cuddle."

Gilbert stopped but leaned in to say against from a close distance. "Wanted to hear you laugh more."

 _Danger, danger, Will Robinson_ , his mind unhelpfully supplied as Gilbert kissed him. Alistair's arms tightened on him and Matthew felt his flagging erection revive against his lower back. Matthew hummed into Gilbert's mouth and wiggled a little as his hand caressed Alistair's thigh. He broke the kiss and leaned back to look at the man holding him, kiss his jaw. "You change your mind?"

"Ye tryin' not ta walk tomorrow?"

 _Maybe. How fucked I am by you might keep me from thinking how much I'm fucking myself over by being with you._ Matthew didn't say anything, only held his gaze as he reached up, angled his face, and kissed his lips. Alistair kissed him back languidly, but pulled away after only a few moments. " _I_ want ye ta walk in tha mornin'. Let's go shower, _mo leannan bòidheach_."

Matthew went, following where Gilbert was already standing up at the side of the bed. He wondered what Alistair had just called him—wanted a translation for what Gilbert usually called him too now that he thought about it—but didn't want to use one of his hard earned questions on what they would probably tell him freely.

He could always qualify it.

He looked at Gilbert as he stood and said, "Can I ask you both something now without having it count towards my questions from…" He waved a hand over the bed, trying _really_ hard not to think of what he just said or what else they would want to know. "I want to start those tomorrow."

"Go ahead, _Liebling_ ," Gilbert said pulling on his hand as he moved towards the bathroom. He heard Alistair hum in agreement behind him, coming closer.

"I don't speak German or…Gaelic? What does that mean, Gil?"

Gilbert looked over his shoulder and smiled at him. Matthew had to suppress a shiver as they stepped onto the cold bathroom tiles. "Darling, Matthew."

Matthew stared at him, surprise making his mouth form a small "o". Gilbert turned towards the shower and Alistair came up to hug him from behind. Matthew leaned back against him and closed his eyes, savoring the contact. " _Leannan_ means sweetheart in Scots Gaelic. I just called ye my beautiful sweetheart." Alistair grinned against his shoulder. "He's blushing, isn't he."

"Of course. It's adorable," Gilbert answered and they both laughed as Matthew put his face in his hands and stupidly let himself be happy with this, if only for a few hours.

* * *

Matthew had failed to wake early enough to have breakfast waiting for them in the morning, but he did his best to make up for it by having the pancakes be the best that he had made in a long time. He had forgotten what it was like to cook for someone else and he reveled in the opportunity to do it again.

If the sounds they had made were anything to go by, they appreciated his efforts.

Alistair and Gilbert readily volunteered to clean up, though Matthew had a habit of cleaning as he went, so there wasn't much for them to do. Still, he decided that it was the right time to call in the answers he was owed.

It had not been an overly difficult decision as he thought on what to ask them. For all of the pleasure and laughter of the night, Matthew couldn't shake or ignore the gut wrenching feeling of being exposed. He knew he had revealed too much and he felt flayed in the aftermath. He did not just want to balance the scales between them, but he _needed_ to, if only to calm the half-panicked feeling inside him.

"So…." he started awkwardly, feeling singularly out of place in his skin. He couldn't explain his natural response to his situation, but thankfully his boyfriends did not ask. Gilbert glanced up silently from where he wiped down the stove and Alistair made a noise of acknowledgement from the sink. He cleared his throat. "I thought of some things to ask. After last night."

They both tensed but Gilbert hid it better. "Go ahead, _Liebling_ " he said, at once nonchalant and soothing.

He was grateful that something in him eased and disconcerted that it had taken three words from Gilbert to do it. The safest thing to do would to leave them, never look back and not accept the risk of being with them in any way since it was clear to him now (too late) that he was emotionally unable to do casual.

But he wouldn't.

"By my count, I get five questions?"

Gilbert and Alistair exchanged a look before Alistair nodded. "Aye."

"How'd you two meet?"

He had been insanely curious, but too timid to ask at dinner last night, not wanting to bring up their past as he had been reluctant to even touch on his. Opening the door during a reciprocal conversation was asking for trouble, but now he had the chance to just ask and be answered with no strings attached.

Gilbert's mouth twitched into a smile while Alistair tensed further. "I met him on a job, one of the quieter ones. He wasn't the target, but an obstacle. Color me surprised when I found myself doing more work than expected."

"Feck off," Alistair said, turning around long enough to flick Gilbert with water, expression marginally harassed. "What's he's not sayin', Mattie, is he was sent ta kill me uncle an' I didn't know enough ta stay out of his way."

"He was a piece of work," Gilbert said, unrepentant. "And treated you like shit. He didn't deserve the quick death I gave him."

What a way to meet your future husband. He wanted to know more of their story and he didn't regret using his second question to ask, "When did you start dating? I'm assuming it wasn't during that."

"Well…" Gilbert said and Alistair wet his hand to flick at him once more.

"It wasn't until years later. Six, maybe?" Alistair said, mouth tense but corners twitching upwards. He then met Matthew's gaze with a small shake of the head ( _What can ye do?_ ) before turning back to the dishes. "We got ta be mates after tha', but it wasn't until we started workin' together tha' we stopped pretendin' we were just friends with benefits."

"But that _was_ the start of convenient deaths between us. And we didn't actually start dating until after we said I love you, so…" Gilbert shrugged. "Timeline's a little fucked up, but it worked out."

Gilbert shot Matthew a charming smirk and he couldn't help but answer with a smile of his own. Pleased, Gilbert moved and took over drying the dishes as Alistair finished washing them.

"What's one thing you want that you know you'll never have?" Matthew asked. They could buy just about anything they wanted but it said a lot about a person when confronted with life's limitations.

They answered at the same time.

"Peace."

"Kids."

All movement ceased in the kitchen. Alistair recovered first, looking at Gilbert with wide eyes. "Ye still want children?"

Gilbert shrugged at Alistair's soft tone and said with convincing ease, "Never stopped. I just knew it was impossible the day I realized I wanted to marry you. I've let that go, accepted it, and don't regret a thing. What about you? I don't exactly invite safety."

"I can live without peace." _I can't live without ye._

This…had gotten too deep. Matthew didn't know what he had hoped for, but it wasn't this. Klaxons were going off in his head as he watched Gilbert lean to kiss Alistair. An ache formed in his chest and Matthew beat it back with the single-mindedness of the damned.

He needed to change the subject. Quickly.

Matthew licked his lips and squeezed the counter behind him as he asked, "How many people have there been? Before me, I mean."

They froze in concert once more, snapping back into a world that went beyond each other, before staring at him. "Wha'?" Alistair asked, nonplussed.

"As your shared boyfriend. Or girlfriend…person-friend. Like I am." Matthew said disjointedly, cheeks heating but forcing himself to keep looking at them.

They exchanged a look and Gilbert came to him, throwing the dish towel over his shoulder and putting a hand softly on Matthew's face. He seemed confused and…concerned. "You're our first, Matthew, our only." He had not been expecting that. "Why did you think you weren't?"

Matthew didn't have a singular reason for it, but he had been certain before that moment. "I don't know. You're just so casual? Like me being here or having a third person in your bed when you wake up is completely normal."

"I can assure you, it's not." Gilbert kissed him briefly before moving back to the sink.

Matthew blinked after him and met Alistair's troubled eyes. "I told ye, ye were hard ta find. I wasn't kidding."

Oh no.

"Why," he whispered before he could stop himself. _Shit_ , that was his last question! Matthew stumbled to finish the inquiry, make it worth a spot. "W-why take on a third person? You love each other, work well together. Why bother with me, or even looking for someone like me?"

"Are ye worried we're gonna change our minds about ye?"

Matthew's gaze had wandered to stare at the cabinets as he spoke but the question had him looking at Alistair. His eyes were too knowing and Matthew hated that he was so inexperienced and thus transparent in this situation. Matthew thankfully did not blush and wasn't under oath to answer so he only said in reply, "I'm just trying to understand what you want from me."

Alistair took the non-answer with pursed lips but Gilbert turned around and mirrored Matthew's posture against the counter. "We love each other and are good partners, yes, but we're too alike. We bicker, push each other, and every so often one of us pushes too far. We have no balance, which was fine for late 20s, our 30s, but later?" Gilbert shook his head. "We can't change who we are, don't want to change each other, but are smart enough to realize that for all that we love each other now, we would probably be separated by 45. We needed a counterpoint, someone who could handle us without _being_ us, and that's you."

Oh no.

 _That…was the exact opposite of what I needed to hear._

"Noo, a question, if I may." Alistair said, dishes forgotten behind him as he watched Matthew carefully. He was still reeling from the explanation, something that was so simple yet extraordinary that it had to be the truth. He nodded. "We're Death an' War, but ye haven't mentioned it once since ye got here. Ye could have asked us anythin', Mattie, an' we would have told ye. Why didn't ye ask about wha' we do or are plannin'?"

Matthew frowned in confusion because he would have to be a certain kind of stupid to ask after anything related to their work. Sure, he was curious, but it would raise their suspicions of him unnecessarily. Also, the absolute last thing he needed was for them to question him about what was happening in Italy. They would need the Horsemen as allies, but that was not why Matthew was here. And he certainly didn't travel across a continent to see them only to work _more_! They were his escape, his chance to be free of expectations for a short while, and he appreciated them for that.

"I'm not with you because of what you do or what your titles are. You being Horsemen was actually one of the reasons I was planning on avoiding you at the ball. I'm here because you're Alistair and Gilbert. It's the same reason why I went back to your hotel room in the first place, why I _stayed_. I'm not going to ask you about it because I don't particularly care to know. As Ghost, sure, I would probably kill for the information in other circumstances, if only to better plan for the future. But I get to be Matthew with you, when I can't be with anyone else. Why would I give that up?"

They did nothing but stare at him for a moment so long that Matthew grew uncomfortable. "With that out of the way, what did you want to do today? Are we going out or—hey!"

Gilbert had come forward and scooped him into a fireman's carry with little warning. Matthew found himself staring at his ass and Gilbert quickly moved them out of the kitchen. He strained and twisted to move into a somewhat more dignified position and only earned a soft slap to his thigh in response. "Be still, would you? I don't want to drop you."

Gilbert smoothly began climbing the stairs and Matthew now had an idea of their destination. Heat curled in his belly as Alistair said, placing a hand on his back, "We're goin' out later. We want ta show ye London, after all. But I'm of a mind tha' ye need some reassurance about this an' we're more than happy ta give it ta ye."

 _You're going to give me something, alright._ Matthew shook his head but couldn't help smiling. "You're both ridiculous. I could have walked up here. Oof." Gilbert dumped him on the bed, leaving him half sprawled on the bedspread. They were grinning at him like wolves, expressions full of hunger and teeth. Matthew, grateful for the physical distraction, returned the smile with one of his own, and deliberately ran his tongue along his top lip. "Did you want something?"

They didn't leave Alistair's apartment until after noon.

A/N: Matthew at his feelings (flinging holy water): Back, back you accursed things!

As for why Matthew knows about Deadpool, do you really think a young Matthew didn't look up every superhero/antihero he could that was Canadian, especially living with "America, fuck-yeah" in human form?

Before anyone asks: NO, Gilbert's daddy kink has nothing to do with the fact that he wants kids. He does not see Matthew as a child, let alone his child, and would be utterly repulsed by the insinuation. Also, as a rule, Alistair and Gilbert didn't pick up anyone who looked to be five years or more their junior in age. Let's not link pedophilia with kink, people, because only one of those is okay.

Song for this chapter is "Devil Like Me" by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.


End file.
